


Regarding Abigail

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series (Alternate Universe) [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Romance, Broken Bones, Car Accidents, Concussions, Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, French Kissing, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Kissing, M/M, Memory Loss, Movie Night, Oral Sex, Public Relations, Publicity, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Social Media, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Temporary Amnesia, Tumblr, Twitter, Vaginal Fingering, all the sex to no sex, he's also horny, how did that happen?, omg tom hiddleston is my boyfriend, tom hiddleston is a lovesick puppy, until a little later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 106,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe (of In Formal Wear, a Tom and Abby one shot), a terrible car accident robs Abigail of her recent memory. She doesn’t remember Tom or their relationship. Injured and alone, Abby can only put her trust in a man who claims to be her boyfriend. Tom has a second chance to make Abby fall in love with him - again.</p><p>For potential readers, you don't have to be familiar with Tom and Abby's backstory to read this. Enough is explained for this to be read and enjoyed (hopefully) independently of their existing canon. </p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Formal Wear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissVioletHunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissVioletHunter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In Formal Wear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972712) by [TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse). 



> A different outcome of a one shot in Tom and Abigail’s universe In Formal Wear. The first 7 paragraphs are lifted from that one shot to create this alternate universe. This was originally meant to be a short story, but it got away from me, and came about from a suggestion of missviolethunter. If this is at all confusing for you, please don't hesitate to ask.

“Luke, where’s Abby?” I asked over the din of the crowd on and around the red carpet, turning my head away from the crowd. It was a futile attempt to keep my personal life private when I was face to face with so many people. Fans and autograph seekers crowded the barricade in front of me while flash after flash attempted to blind me permanently. Taking the next black sharpie and scrolling quickly over the glossy eight by ten of me dressed as Loki, I smiled politely at the lines and mobs of people in my eye line. Luckily these people weren’t really seeing me or hearing me, they were all clamoring to get pictures of the next celebrity making an entrance.

Nights like these were always so chaotic, and I moved almost on autopilot. I had to turn off my brain and let the night take me where it would. The noise of the screams, the flashes, and the excitement could panic even the sanest person, and this event was no different. The only difference was my girlfriend of a few months was supposed to be beside me.

My publicist leaned into me, turning his head from the crowd before me to keep our conversation as secret as possible considering the venue. “I’m not sure, mate. I sent a car for her.”

“Did she ring your mobile?” I asked, quickly glancing at my wristwatch. Abigail was already an hour late, and I was beginning to feel a little uneasy by her absence. She was easily distracted, but she also knew the significance of tonight. She could be struggling with nerves, or caught up in rehearsal, or found another activity, or running late, or worse. My mind whirled with the possibilities, the unknown working my nerves.

Luke shook his head in the negative to my query. I offered another suggestion, “Did she ring mine?” Luke dug my iPhone from his trouser pocket, checked the display and shook his head again.

As another interviewer tugged on my sleeve, trying to pull me in front of another television camera for a chat, I quickly ordered, “Find her for me please. Get her here.”

Smiling brightly, biting back the bitter cold February night as I turned my attention to yet another interview, Luke nodded blankly and hustled off away from the madness to ring up the car company to track my wayward lover. I flashed my practiced smile for the camera, ignoring the mounting irritation for my significant other and launching into another vague speech about my upcoming project. As dear and loved as Abigail was to me, her flightiness irked me at times. This was not the night for a diversion to attract her attention. She had pushed for us to attend an event together, and she was missing it, I didn’t like it.

*

The worst phone call a man can receive, I got, in front of thousands of people with a smile plastered on my face. My mobile vibrated in my hand after Luke disappeared to track down Abby as I’d asked him. Against my better judgment, I looked at the caller ID, and excused myself to answer it.

My girlfriend of a few months was missing, and I was concerned about her, her nerves, her flightiness, her ability to be distracted easily. When my iPhone vibrated with her incoming call, I decided that I had to answer it.

“Abby?”

“Sir?” The mobile scalded my palm as a cold professional voice calling from my girl’s mobile stated, “I’m calling about Abigail Morgan.”

Utter confusion and anger invaded my body like a swarm of hungry killer bees. I glanced at my iPhone to make sure that it was a call from Abby’s number. Another man was calling from her mobile, and I immediately froze in place, my back up in high alert, ready for battle.

“Who is this?” I couldn’t temper or control the suspicion at the heart of the question, the demand. Another man called me from Abigail’s mobile. Every nerve in my body screamed, ‘MINE!’

Abby and I had been dating for almost three months, and involved for the better part of a year. The impulse, the assumption that she was sharing her bed with another man weighed heavily on me, haunting me in the back of my mind. Any day, any hour, any minute, I could discover that she too had followed the same pattern as my previous lovers, that she couldn’t be trusted, that she too had betrayed me. I’d be shattered if I lost Abby so soon.

My stomach wanted to reject the light meal that I had right before putting my tux on for this event. Swallowing the bile back, my growl repeated, “Who is this?” My voice sounded foreign, defensive, and angry all at once, stress rung in my ears.

“Sir, I apologize for contacting…”

The volume rose in my voice, the demand clipped, “Who is this?”

The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat and annunciated professionally, “I’m called Dr. Sherpada. Do you know Abigail Morgan?”

A doctor? The jealousy marring my thoughts couldn’t reconcile the idea of Abigail with a doctor. Had she been making a fool of me with a doctor? On automatic, the tone strained, almost disconnected from the emotions I felt for her, “Yes, I know her.”

“I apologize. I didn’t know who to contact. I’m assuming you are her boyfriend, husband, significant other?”

The possessive beast of a man growled again at the polite docttor, “Boyfriend.”

“Ah, I was looking for next of kin, mother, father, sister or brother,” the doctor explained apologetically. “Any family.”

“She doesn’t have- What is this about?”

“I’m afraid there’s been an accident. I need to get in touch with someone that can take responsibility for Abigail and her medical care. Can you give me a name and number of some-“

I interrupted again, “What kind of accident? Is Abby hurt?” Gone was the suspicious, jealous boyfriend replaced with the man deeply and unquestioningly in love with her.

“I’m afraid I can’t- I should only speak with next of kin.”

Worry and near panic took over then. “Dr. Sherpada. I’m Tom, Tom Hiddleston and I can take responsibility for Abigail. In fact, she was meant to meet me tonight. Is she alright? Is she hurt?”

The doctor seemed a bit shaken up by the lack of next of kin for Abby. After stuttering a few times and verifying again that there was nobody else to claim her other than me, he conceded in telling me something. “Mr. Hiddleston, I’m sorry to say that she’s been involved in a very serious car accident. She’s unconscious at the moment, has been since she arrived in A & E about an hour ago.”

A sickening dread turned my blood to ice ran through me immediately, a perfect storm of worry, panic and nausea. I found it difficult to breathe for a few minutes. Vertigo set the world on its access as the noise and lights of the red carpet event faded and blurred before my eyes. The battle cry of thousands of angry vicious armies sounded in my ears in a whoosh. My publicist tapped my shoulder to gesture and usher me inside the theatre. Shaking my head vehemently, I signaled that we had to go straight away, pointing at the mobile in my hand.

“Dr. Sherpada, which hospital? I’m on my way,” I promised, on my publicist’s heels. Upon hearing both doctor and hospital without needing any further explanation, Luke sprinted to the kerb, hailing a taxi to get us to the closest A & E sooner.

*

I rushed into hospital at full tilt, anxious to get to my girl’s side, to learn the full extent of her injuries, and find out if she would be alright, if she would heal. The nurse on duty took me in to talk with the doctor as soon as I arrived, after I identified myself, confirming once more that I was the only one that could claim the patient. I gave both the nurse and the doctor a brief rundown of Abby’s history, and how I became her only means of identification, other than friends and fellow coworkers.

Leaving Luke in the waiting room, Dr. Sherpada walked me to Abby’s room, explaining the nature of her injuries and what he’d gathered from the police emergency first responders. Abby was in the backseat of the hired car, sitting on the passenger side heading from the theatre she worked to the BAFTAs where she was meant to meet up with me. A lorry careened out of control hitting the driver’s side. The jolt of the collision knocked Abby into the side of the car, smacking her head against the window and breaking her left wrist in three places. The doctor explained that based on the x-ray of her wrist, it looked as though she’d braced her hand along the door, almost in anticipation of the accident.

My heart broke and my stomach dropped at the idea of Abby knowing that she was in danger. I despised that I wasn’t there for her, not by her side, protecting her. I asked as many questions as I could of the doctor, almost interrogating him on whether my girl would be alright after all, if she’d heal completely, if she’d be whole again. None of the medical professionals could tell the whole story for sure until Abby woke up.

The hospital staff put me in Abby’s hospital room, beside her to wait for her to open her eyes. I removed my tie and suit jacket and settled in for however long it took. The still figure of my girlfriend in that hospital bed physically pained me. She looked so tiny, pale, and bandaged, her left wrist already set in a plastercast. All I wanted to do was curl myself around her, heal all her wounds, take on her pain as mine.

The wait felt endless, each minute stretched on for an eternity, one hour bleeding into the next. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t pace without feeling my heart in my throat, fearing and yearning for Abby to wake. I needed her to be okay, I needed her to be my Abby.

Luke brought me coffee and snacks that I left untouched, unable to swallow around the worry, the anguish of the unknown. I stood staring out the picture window for a long while, thinking of all I’d been through with this woman, a huge question mark hanging over our future.

When Abby moaned painfully, my pulse quickened and I rushed to her side. I hit the nurse call button with such force I thought it almost cracked under the pressure I put behind it. Frantically, controlling the volume of my voice, I called, “Abby? Abby? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelashes fluttered, but her eyes remained closed as she struggled to wake, fighting for consciousness. I didn’t want to cause her any undue pain, so I touched only her unharmed right arm, giving her something solid to cling to in order to wake.

“Abby? Please wake up now… please, please, baby… Abby? Sweetheart? I need you with me…”

A doctor and a nurse joined me at her bedside, checking the patient’s vitals, encouraging me as a familiar voice to keep talking to her. Abby moaned through it all until she finally peeled her eyes open.

Her blue eyes were dulled against the pain in her head, the bruising around her eyes purpling and worsening as the moments dragged on. She whimpered, her eyes swiveling between me, the nurse, the doctor, fighting to keep them from rolling back and giving way to the pain again.

She was scared, petrified by the attention on her, frightened for what was happening to her.

Dr. Sherpada spoke reassuringly, “Ms. Morgan, you were involved in an accident. There’s no need to worry, you’re under my care. I’ll see you to full health again.”

Abby kept mostly quiet as the doctor explained everything she’d been through, what she could expect from her injuries, and how they were getting on with treating her. The more the doctor talked, the more my girlfriend seemed to hole up into herself. When she was anxious or nervous, she pulled into herself, especially when she couldn’t hide. Her good hand curled into the sheets and blankets, covering more of herself with it as a barrier.

“Do you know your name?” the doctor inquired, checked her eyes for responsiveness.

With a croaking groan, she slowly said, “Abigail Morgan.”

The doctor probed with a few more run of the mill questions, work, address, phone number. A curt nod from me confirmed all her answers to be truth for the doctor and the nurse.

“Brilliant, Abigail. You’re doing well, but I’d like to keep you overnight to see that you’re alright. Is that okay with you?”

She nodded silently with little conviction, her gaze still dancing between the three of us in turn.

“Do you have any questions, Abigail?”

After a long pause, her gaze focused on me. She pointed at me and in a small voice asked, “Who’s that one?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, God, Abby…” My voice broke with my heart at the vacant stare my girlfriend gave me. This couldn’t be happening. She knew her name, her birthday, her hometown, her current address, and her stop on the tube… but she looked at me as though I was a stranger. “You have to know me,” I said in a near whisper.

There was a flurry of activity from the nurse and the doctor, shuffling me to the side as they checked over my girl again. Both of them had seen the pictures of Abby and I together in happy times on her phone. It was proof enough that she knew me, in their eyes. But the girl in the bed with the bandage on her forehead didn’t recognize me, the woman who slept naked in my arms the night before and nearly every night since Christmas drew a blank on me.

The erratic thumping of my heart forced me to inhale deeply and exhale slowly, to calm the thoughts running through my head. As the doctor rambled question after question at Abby to determine how much she knew and how much she’d lost, I stood back and watched, when all I wanted to do was gather her up into my arms and never let go.

In three words, ‘who’s that one?’ my life turned to shit, unbalanced, wrong, and there was no logical path to put it right. I couldn’t ration or reason a solution to this, and I was out of my mind with worry.

_“I need photographic evidence,” Abby announced the morning after I admitted I was in love with her too. “Now that we’re together, like an actual ‘us’”_

_I groaned in protest, curling into her side, burying my face in the curve of her neck and breathing in her peach smell. I mumbled, “I have pictures of us already… during rehearsal and curtain call… cast parties… and that one with you sprawled across my lap.”_

_She cut me off before I could tell her about the erection she’d given me that day. We’d started sleeping together a few days before, and Abby had me randy with a look and a blush, that’s all it took. I’d been sporting a boner like a horny teenager with a massive crush on the teacher for a month for this petite surprise firecracker. My girl had captivated me so much that only she could satisfy my libido._

_“That doesn’t count,” she tsked happily. “You were hard then.” Distracting her from the selfie that she wanted to take of us, I slid my hand across her bared torso. She giggled as she felt the evidence of my arousal against her hip. “Well, alright, you’re hard and in love now. I need proof.”_

_“You’re not taking a picture of my-”_

_“Hiddleston! No, I’m not! You wicked naughty man!”_

_She lifted her phone and held it at arm’s length, capturing only our faces. She was a tousled beauty, with no makeup and a winning smile. I was nuzzled against her ear, eyes closed, truly enjoying the company I kept. Nobody would ever know that while that picture was taken, she had her other hand curled around my cock, ready to show me just how much she loved me._

As I returned to the present, I wondered if I would ever recapture that, if I would ever get that girl back.

Abby looked flustered and frustrated as Dr. Sherpada began asking her more involved questions, like her last memory, what month and what year it was. Her hands visibly trembled the more he asked of her, and she couldn’t answer. By the time she’d answered that she didn’t know to the fifth question in a row, her brow furrowed, nibbling on her lower lip with concern for her own wellbeing.

“And you don’t remember your boyfriend? Tom?” the doctor asked lowly, in an effort to dial back her worry.

Surrounded by bruises, her eyes swam with unshed tears, surveying me with a keen sense of wanting to understand our relationship. Defeated and shattered, Abby shook her head and reclined back against her pillows with a look of devastation.

Dr. Sherpada and the nurse left me alone with the patient who no longer knew who I was and I felt like I was drowning. The room was cold, heartless, and distant, yet incredibly oppressive. Normally I could talk and navigate my way out of any situation, but this- I couldn’t think my way out of a diagnosis of memory loss.

Could be temporary, could be permanent, he told me. Only time could tell.

That wasn’t good enough for me. I needed my girl. After watching the door close behind the doctor, I slowly turned to the bruised and battered Abby, a seemingly a year younger Abby in a single night. I’d been in her life for a year, and she didn’t know me.

Her rigid posture in the hospital bed told me that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with my presence or the situation. The purse of her lips communicated that she wasn’t going to talk either.

In a moment of pure desperation and limitless agony, I said her name and reached for her, that my touch would heal her or bring her back to me as it always had before. But to my atonishent and bewilderment, Abby flinched, bracing herself for the worst, not knowing my intention to soothe her, my gesture of affection for her. She’d forgotten.

I withdrew my hand, stopping myself from causing her any discomfort, but I felt like my heart had been yanked from my chest. With every fiber of my being, I ached with stress. The uncomfortable, unwanted tingling worked from the base of my neck down, my legs leaden. A heavy sigh expelled from my lungs when I sat in the chair beside her bed.

Abby noticed. The wide-eyed questioning gaze melted into one of caring, and a hint of sympathy. She looked closer to my Abby in that moment. Glancing away, she looked to be considering her surroundings and the state of confusion she found herself in. Long moments of silence passed, both of us stumped by the other, and searching for something to say to bridge the gap.

“You’re- you’re called Tom?” she tested bravely after witnessing how much her recoil had hurt me. From the drawn out pronunciation of each syllable, she seemed to be tasting my name in her mouth, reacquainting herself with it, trying to recall it.

“I am.”

And then silence again. I couldn’t bombard her, I knew that, but there was so much I wanted to find out. But I’d seen how upset she got when the doctor interrogated her, I certainly didn’t want to alienate her any further. I needed her closer, not further away.

Like a doe testing the ice on a frozen lake, Abby asked, “Can you tell me something about me?”

From the stress she put on her words, she was looking for something other than a fact. She was examining me, and how close we were. She wanted to trust me, and she was giving me the opportunity to prove myself to her. This wasn’t about facts and figures this was about our compatibility, and my place at her side would be determined by how I answered the question.

I combed my fingers through my hair and then scratched at my goatee, my life with Abby in sharp perspective. This was a test I had to pass, since I wanted to stay with her. Something personal…  something intimate enough that she would know how close we were… something that would tell her that I was in love with her.

With a small chuckle, I said, “You both love and hate shoes. You love having them, shopping for them, getting them, but you hate wearing them. When you visit me at my flat, you kick off your shoes as soon as you walk in the door, and you leave them there. You do that at yours too.”

I dared to look at her to see how I was doing. The corners of her lips were curled up in a simple smile. She was invested in it, but I hadn’t won her over yet.

“Your extra shoe rack? It’s your oven. Because you don’t know what to do with an oven. I won’t let you do that at mine though, but that’s because they live in the hallway. You have no patience for putting them away.”

When I looked at her beloved face again, she was smiling, a true genuine smile like she gave me, like that one in the selfie. She also looked knackered, completely done in by her ordeal and all she’d been through. Without the stress, she could relax and not have to concentrate or worry about answering another round of questions.

I encouraged her to put her head back and let the pain meds work their magic. When she did, she bid me, “Please… go on…”

I rearranged the chair closer to her bedside so she could see me, and pay closer attention to my voice. “You can’t sit still most of the time. You have so much energy to expend and an attention span of fly. You hate the tube because it takes too long. You’ll get off two or three stops early, and walk the rest of the way. You only feel like you’re getting somewhere if you’re actually putting energy into it.”

I talked until her eyes closed and she fell asleep, into a dreamless sleep with the help of the medication. I couldn’t help but watch her sleep for a few minutes, wishing her wounds away, wishing my Abby would come back again. Before leaving her briefly to find the doctor and discuss her amnesia, I pet her hair softly in the way I always did for her and kissed the unbruised side of her forehead. I whispered against her hair, “I love you, Abigail.”

With only a hint of her peach smell on her, my insides twinged with missing her, missing the way we were. I wouldn’t give up on her, I’d be by her side every step on her road to recovery.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I refused to leave her bedside, for fear that she’d slip away or disappear or make a turn for the worst health wise. I steadfastly stayed by her side, hoping that she’d remember what we had. The silly nonsensical playing relationship, I looked forward to recapturing that again. Being at home was just as attractive as working or running or rehearsing because of her. Abby added whimsy to my structured routine. She made me want to be a better man, with her heart, her compassion and her affection.

The woman held fathomless depths of love for everyone around her, and I needed that back. The hopelessness of being unable to help her pain, her memory felt like a clawing, vicious black demon scraping along my gut. The pit of doubt grew each hour she looked at me blankly, a barrier in her brain blocking the recognition, that genuine radiant smile she gave me, and only for me.

The chair under my bum felt like a torture device, no give, no comfort, foreign and hard. Though my mind was projecting my inner turmoil of missing my girl who was so close yet so far away onto the inanimate object, I remained in it, at her side. I shifted uncomfortably. The London sky beyond the picture window of the hospital was white, an oppressive blanket of cloud cover bearing down on the city. A mixture of rain and snow fell intermittently, soaking the grime that coated the streets and buildings.

I huffed, closing the book on my lap that I couldn’t bring myself to read for worrying. Even Dickens couldn’t reach my level of listless concern for the petite woman with the enormous heart. I wanted her back.

“You’re very pretty,” a tiny airy voice pulled me from my reverie of the outside world.

I turned to see tiny Abigail, looking pale and drawn, her blue eyes dulled, sunken in and bruised from the accident, and a bandage on her head. The tentative smile with her teeth hidden behind her lips, though not the smile I wanted, captivated me.

With a small huff of a laugh into my lap, my worry temporarily forgotten, I smiled, “Thank you, b…” I drifted off, uncertain if I should call her baby, something so familiar when she barely knew me or my name. Everything I’d grown accustomed to with Abby felt off. The woman I loved so completely with all of my heart in one night became a stranger and I’d give anything to bring her back.

“Have you- were you… were you here all night?” she asked demurely.

I nodded. “Can’t have you wondering off alone. I’m used to…” No, I should take things slow with her, so I refrained from telling her that I was used to having her in my arms when I fell asleep.

“Am I alright?”

“A slight case of amnesia and a broken wrist. That’ll be in the cast for a bit,” I pointed to her left arm, resting on a pillow, already wrapped in the plastercast.

“Will I get my memories back?”

Against my better judgment, I lied. Abby looked so fragile and so scared, she needed confidence and assurance. “You’re going to make a full recovery, it’ll take some time.”

Her eyes roamed my face, reading my fib right off. “Liar,” she flirted. She wasn’t angry. There was anxiety behind her eyes, but she was teasing me. “You have a tell.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember me?” I asked with a wink.

I earned a blush, a true Abby blush. At least I knew that she still liked me however brief our exchanges since her stay in hospital since the day before. “How- how are… how are you here?”

“I’m your boyfriend, we’re dating. About four months.”

With a small nod, she digested this, rolled it around her head for a long beat. “Are we in love?”

I answered sincerely, “Yes, very much.”

After a long while, she seemed to be mulling what to ask next. A peek inside her anxiety displayed itself with a nervous nibble on one side of her lower lip, and she avoided looking directly at me again. Finally she asked just above a whisper, “Are you a good kisser?”

Of all the possible questions she could ask, I wasn’t expecting that one. How we met, how we fell in love, how long ago, were the questions I expected and was mentally answering so she wouldn’t be too skittish with me. Our history wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. I threw my head back and laughed at the question, despite the dire situation that Abby didn’t remember me or how my lips felt against hers. “You’ve never once complained. You fancy snogging me actually.”

She giggled again, and did her best to hide behind her good hand, favoring all her injuries. The cute display of shyness at the familiarity I defined within our dynamic lasted a few moments, her brain relearning what was locked beyond her bruise. She tittered off until she sat staring at her fingers. “How did you find me here? How did you know?”

It was an awkward subject for her since she remembered most of her life. She knew she was an orphan and why she lived in London, but everything after that seemed fuzzy or altogether forgotten or blocked.

Her fingers played with the corner of her blanket, both in embarrassment and despair. Whenever she spoke of her family, she clammed up or burst into tears. She was very vulnerable to the hurt of being without human contact. She liked being touched when she knew me, a constant physical reminder that she was alive and that there was someone there for her, someone considered her.

“They knew who you were from the IDs in your handbag. Your mobile wasn’t damaged in the accident. The doctor went through your contacts, recent call logs or frequently called… found me under your name of endearment- what you call me.”

“Oh!” After a few beats, Abby surrendered to her curiosity. “What do I call you then?”

Pride filled my chest and I might have answered with a little too much conceit, but I loved when she called me, “I’m your beautiful man.”

“You fancy that,” she lilted playfully taking note of the boastful tone. “Maybe too much.” Abby was attracted to my confidence and it showed even now. The shy and coy girl was coming around. Her cheeks flushed, the color rising from the base of her neck up into her pale skin, putting some life back into her face.

I felt the wheels in my head spin to life, just to keep her talking, to keep her looking like that, to keep her flirting with me. I wanted to reach for her, to touch her, soothe away her confusion. I liked how favorably responsive she was to my touch and how she craved it, but I didn’t want to force it yet.

The nurse came into the room to check on the patient and her chart. Carefully she changed the dressing and medicated the wound on Abby’s head, offering any pain medication, ointment or ice to ease the pain. Bravely, my girl declined all of it, shifting her eyes to me every so often. I couldn’t be sure if she was looking to relearn me or seeking approval or wanting to ask more of me, or to back her up.

I stayed near, hovering in the perimeter of the room as the nurse rearranged pillows, sheets and blankets. As quickly as she came into the room, the nurse was off again to check on other patients.

“Abby,” I caught her gaze before she lost her nerve and looked away again. I hated seeing her so subdued and so still. Her energy zapped by the wounds and the pain she’d endured.

“When we got together, I told you something… that I seduced you for all the wrong reasons. I did but I’ll never regret it because I got you in the end. Faced with this,” I gestured between us and glancing at the bandage, hoping she understood. “Abigail, you told me once, ‘don’t let go.’ I’m not letting go. I seduced you for all the wrong reasons, but this time… I’m going to seduce you for all the right ones, because I love you, I want you, and I’m not willing to lose you.

“You fell in love with me once and I wasn’t trying to win you. I didn’t want a serious relationship, but you showed me how much I wanted you, needed you. I still do, my Abby.”

My girl held my gaze, drawn in by my explanation. Her wide eyes looked innocent with a desire for trust, beyond the black and blue and purple blotchy wounds, and a tiny expression of joy.

She kept quiet, so I continued my promise to her, “If this is permanent, and I hope it isn’t, but if it is… It won’t matter because you’ll fall in love with me again. I’ll get to experience firsts with you all over again, first kiss, first touch, first date, first time we make love, first sleepover, first breakfast in bed, first pun filled conversation. I’ll seduce you for all the right reasons this time. I’ll fall in love with you all over again and you’ll fall in love with me.”

Abby didn’t smile or blink or move, but her skin prickled, perked up. Her energy surged in her muscles, her tissues, her soul, all renewed within her in a rush. Her pulse beat rapidly, I could see it pound under her skin along the column of her neck. She was nervous, her timid nature blooming before my eyes and she was sight for sore eyes.

She resembled the slip of a girl that kept running away from me whenever she saw me a year ago, the girl who entranced me. We’d come so far since then, and I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but she needed to know that I had no intention of losing her or stop in earning her trust again.

I saw her vitality, her enthusiasm, her joie de vivre come back to life. That was my Abigail.

_That was my Abigail._

After a few moments of pure torture, she finally saved me. She threw the drowning man a life ring into the turbulent water. She simply said, “Okay.”

The warm relief of encouragement spread through me, the stress of the past twenty four hours melting away. Adoration for this woman overflowed, she brimmed my heart with love when she smiled that special smile just for me. I could almost hear it, the beam so bright it could fill a theatre. Her eyes lowered again with modesty and humility, sorting through my pledge to her. Without looking at me, she giggled a small chortle and commented, “You’re a confident sod, aren’t you?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry that I don’t remember you,” Abby apologized, not for the first time, filling the silence of my car. She had been released from hospital into my care with detailed instructions from the doctor on how to treat her wounds, manage her pain, and stimulate some of her brain activity, repairing the neural pathways to help restore her memories.

Sitting in the passenger seat and staring out the windscreen, Abby looked every bit the patient she had been for the past five days since the accident, the calamitous car accident that had stolen my status with her from passionate lovers to strangers in one night. The crash nearly took her from me permanently, the driver in critical condition with a broken arm and leg, a severe concussion and several cracked ribs from the impact. The car wreckage had been catastrophic and things could’ve been so much worse. Abby was battered and bruised, but I was grateful that her injuries weren’t far worse.

“I feel like I should…” She didn’t look at me, rather looked out the window, her speech modulate as a vocalization of an inner commentary more than a conversation starter. “You’ve not left my side since…”

“Abby, it’s okay. No apology necessary, it’s not your fault,” I comforted, glancing over the center console to find her almost disappearing in my blue t-shirt. The doctor limited her time in a moving vehicle to the journey from hospital to my flat and nothing more until she was closer to healing to avoid any aggravation to her condition. Luke delivered some of my t-shirts and sweatpants to take her home, since we didn’t have keys to her flat.

Her serious expression displayed her inner confusion, her reaching for information that wasn’t there or locked behind an invisible impenetrable barrier. “I don’t mean for you, Tom,” The pronounced and deliberate way she spoke hinted at her familiarizing herself with my name. The formation didn’t come easily for her, not because my name was difficult, but because she felt that it should come more naturally, given our relationship.

Shaking her head, she sighed, “I don’t mean  _just_  for you. I mean that I wish I knew you, because you know me.” Her frustration with her condition came in waves, most of the time she was her excitable persona, eager to learn about her life. “I’m sorry that I don’t know and I want to. I want to remember.”

I wanted to reach for her, but instead kept both hands on the wheel, navigating the route back to my flat. I didn’t want her to suffer in this, but the ‘new surroundings of my flat, the idea of it alone causing her stress.

“Abby, you’re safe with me. I won’t force you to do what you don’t want. I only want you healthy… you don’t have to worry about any more than that.”

“I know… I’m only… this- is- when I- this is…” she trailed off as her thought got away from her, her concentration affected by her bruised head. There was improvement every day, but sometimes it was more pronounced than others. “I just want to remember, what you mean to me, who you are, why I feel I can trust you without knowing you… forgetting that I do know you.”

I parked along the street in front of my flat and switched off the car engine, inviting the quiet to surround us. I looked at my girlfriend closely, wanting to ease her distress. I suggested, “Let’s take a walk through Regents Park. Doctor wanted you to do things as part of your routine.”

I pushed the driver door open and circled around the front of my car to open Abby’s door for her. I offered my hand to help her out of the passenger seat and onto her feet. From her small laps around the hospital ward, she got lightheaded sometimes when she got on her feet. She accepted my offering, but immediately withdrew her hand again when she got her legs solidly beneath her.

Abby looked around, getting her bearings, recognizing none of it. She’d never been to this neighborhood of London before she met me. I took the liberty to point out a few things, my flat, the gate to the back garden, and the direction of the closest tube station before leading her towards the park a few blocks away.

For the most part, my amnesiac girlfriend stayed quiet and listened to me talk until we entered the park. She made a quite a sight, with the bandage, plaster cast and wearing clothes entirely too large for her frame. Fortunately, she wasn’t a vane girl so she couldn’t be arsed to care about her appearance.

As we fell into step with one another along the north path, Abby relaxed a bit, responding to the atmosphere of the outside. Though the frigid air was ever present, she gained a bit of color in her cheeks and her eyes brightened. “What are you meant to do with me now?” she asked accepting my leather jacket around her shoulders, adding a quick ‘thank you.’

I had to pull her from her somber mood brought on by change of scenery and situation. Always reluctant for change, Abby was uncomfortable with her limitation.

“Abby, you’re a little broken so your activities will be low key for the next few weeks until you’re all mended.” I threw in a nod to the character I was best known for hoping that would help jog her memory some, but she didn’t so much as blink.

Her eyes swept the serenity and the calm of the nearly deserted corner of Regents Park, a path she knew very well. She searched for something to hold onto as part of her memory. “My job?”

“The producers and director put your understudy on for the- well, until you get better. I spoke with them myself actually,” I confirmed. The production decided to hold her part for a few weeks and make a determination later for a more permanent solution. She couldn’t return to work since that was recent and forgotten along with me.

“What am I keeping you from?” The guilt waved itself through her words, conveying more of her frustration in her condition.

“I secured a few days off from my shooting schedule while you were in hospital.” The BBC were very kind to me. Although Abby wasn’t family, she had extenuating circumstances and the director respected my position to be at my girlfriend’s side during her recovery.

Abby reasoned from my ‘beautiful face’ and her own personal history with men that she didn’t elaborate on that I too was an actor. She didn’t meet a wide range of people, so she figured that we met in a theatre or a production or through a mutual friend. She hadn’t asked the questions yet about how we met, how we started seeing each other, but that wasn’t her way. She wanted to just remember.

Back at my flat, I gave her a quick tour through the place to warm her up and get her comfortable in the space. She was jittery and jumpy, so I set her up on the sofa with her pink duvet and the pillows from my room. The look of gracious amazement that lit up her face only served to encourage me in showing her how much I knew of her, about her.

That first night with amnesiac Abby felt stiff and awkward. Easing her shyness wasn’t coming easy for me, and I couldn’t seduce her like I had in her dressing room. She knew me then, running lines and blocking together, been in the same space for a fortnight before I went to her. The amnesia took that away, and I had to start from square one.

I changed the dressing on her head and it was the first time that she truly allowed me to touch her, but not for any length of time. She remained mostly quiet and I followed the doctor’s orders, to follow her lead a bit, allow her to determine what she was prepared to tackle. Winning her over emotionally fell into that category, I would relax into her pace. The doctor warned me to take it easy with her the first few days with her brain exercises too: sodoku, crossword puzzles, reading, writing, flashcards and memory games. I reestablished a routine for Abby, similar to our daily life together, to assist with her schedule, and reclaim her missing time.

*

A low rumble sounded from Abby next to me on the sofa. Her good hand shot out suddenly, scrambled the flashcards facing down, and sat back with a huff of exasperation. A fever of irritation radiated from her, a steady current of frustration. “It’s too hard!” From the bloom of red in her cheeks, she was about to burst or cry. Her head reclined back against the back of the sofa, and she covered her eyes with the same hand, heaving another sigh.

“Abby, love…” I went to touch her knee but thought better of it. “You’re doing better than you think you are.”

She scoffed bitterly, refusing to come out from behind her hand. “I can’t… remember!” The desperation and failure in her voice broke my heart. She wanted so much to be better, to be herself.

I pressed my lips between my teeth, paralyzed by helplessness. I couldn’t repair the blow to her head had caused, but I could be there to help her. “We can take a break,” I said, gathering the cards up in one neat pile to hide away in the desk for another time. “It’s been a long day for you, love.”

She didn’t respond, only inhaled through her nose and released it through slightly parted lips.

“We did a lot today – reviewing your script, the crossword puzzles, and your daily walk. It’s a lot to take in. Just relax, love.”

Her tears started behind her hand, and I knew this was more than frustration, but impatience with herself too.

I slid down into the sofa next to her and cooed softly to her, “It’s alright, Abby. Please don’t cry. You’ve done really well.”

It was the fourth full day in my flat with Abby, and she was having a rough go of things. During the day, we reviewed her script for work, but concentration took practice for her. She’d get fidgety and cranky when she couldn’t remember or commit something to memory, and we’d have to move onto something else.

She was worn out and disappointed in her limited ability, unable to retain what she thought was normal for her. I did my best to keep her spirits up by focusing her attention on something else. I missed the clues this time.

“Abby…  Abby love,” I soothed with a gentle tone.

She sniffled helplessly. There wasn’t a cure for what she was feeling or what she was going through, and I couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to be locked up in her head.

I shushed her, letting her know that I was there and I didn’t want to be anywhere else. “Sweetheart, I’m here. You’re doing so well. It’s frustrating and difficult and a battle, but you’re doing it. You- you’ll- it’ll get better.”

Her tears streamed down as an outlet for her mounting frustration. The catharsis would help relieve some of her internal tension, but it was gut-wrenching to witness. She was so vulnerable to it while she was less than herself.

I murmured more words of encouragement, hoping to dry those tears. “I’m here, Abigail. You’re not alone.”

Saying that brought her tear-stained face out from behind her hand. Her red-rimmed eyes, wet cheeks, and her fading bruises tore through me. I hated seeing her so defeated, so shattered by her condition. Her worse fear. I didn’t realize until that moment.

On instinct, I gathered her up in my arms, minding her broken wrist and bruised forehead, and held her close. Abby burrowed into my embrace to chase away the bitter feeling of isolation.

“Abby, love, you’re not alone. I’m here… for you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How is she?” Luke cut to the chase straight away when he answered my call. The question was full of concern, sympathy and general curiosity, cementing the fact that the unexpected friendship had bloomed between my girl and my publicist. At first, I thought he would tolerate my girlfriend as he had before, but his relationship with Abby was different, when she remembered him.

“She’s alright, mate. She had a bit – Abby’s- she’s feeling the effects of the injury. It gets to her…” I switched the mobile from one ear to the other, training my uncovered one for my girlfriend in the other room if she needed me. “Most of the time she’s fine, but she gets discouraged easily because she wants to remember.”

“The doctor mentioned this, yeah?”

“Yeah, to expect dips in her concentration, her ability to memorize things, and she has trouble falling asleep,” I explained, speaking freely. I’d left Abby reading Pride and Prejudice in the living room, surrounded by her pink duvet and all the pillows in my flat, to make a more private conversation in my office.

“Is she remembering you?”

“No,” biting back the want to qualify it with a ‘not yet.’ “She’s very reserved with me, but she’s learning to trust me. She let me comfort her yesterday.”

Luke picked up on something in my tone, maybe my desire for a solution, my own frustration in the impotence I felt. “How are  _you_  doing in all this, mate?”

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I voiced how much I missed Abby’s affection for me. “I just want her back. I want her free of pain, free of confusion. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Nobody does. But, Tom, you’ve got the patience of a saint. If anyone can handle this- all of this- it’s you. You’re in her corner. You’re the only one… for her.” The emphasis that he was spelling out for me didn’t pass without notice. “She’s putting trust in you…” He left the thought unspoken, but I knew what he was playing devil’s advocate.

I sighed. “Listen, Luke, mate…” I stopped, abandoning the conversation about my insecurities. Changing the subject, I turned the corner back to the reason for my call, “Do me a favor, yeah?”

“You want me to cancel Hawaii? I took care of that already.”

“Thanks, man.”

“I’m sorry, Tom. I know that was meant to be your first holiday together. And the Avengers junket?”

Groaning, I leaned back against the computer chair’s support, the think cracking under my bum. “I can’t think about that yet.” I felt the timeline barreling down on me. “It’ll depend on the doctor clearing Abby for travel in the next month. He won’t clear her to go back to work because of her wrist. I’ll either book her flights to go with us or she’ll have to stay here with my sister? I’m not sure.”

“I’ve got some ideas, let me play around.”

“Thanks, Luke. You’ve been immensely… the tour, Hawaii.” I turned at the sound of Abby in the hallway, hovering in the doorway of my office, looking guilty for listening in. I waved her in as I ended my phone call with Luke. “I’ve got to- Abby’s here. I’ll talk to you in a day or two.”

My publicist clicked off after wishing me luck and telling me to call again if I needed anything.

“Sorry, Tom. I didn’t-” she pointed to my mobile, looking uncomfortable interrupting and coming to me in my office.

“Not at all, Abby. It’s time for your bandage change. Let me take a look,” I said, taking her hand and leading her back through the hallway to the kitchen, the best lighting in my flat.

Brushing aside a runaway strand of hair from Abby’s forehead, I held her head gently between my hands, examining her wound closely. The purple at the center had darkened some, but the swelling had gone down considerably over the past few days. The broken skin appeared to be closing up nicely after two ice packs and antibiotic ointment applied twice a day.

Looking up at me through her lashes, she almost winced, “How’s it look?” Her eyes were clearer with the pain finally easing out of her system. Between her head and her wrist, she’d been in pain most of the time since I got her home.

Tenderly I ghosted my thumb over the ridge of the wound to check the scabbing. “It’s healing…”

This was part of our daily routine. Abby was seated on the kitchen bar stool to give her some extra height so I could change the dressing on her head and dose her with pain meds if she needed them. Her small hands fidgeted in her lap at the scrutiny I put on her injury, on her.

The doctor wanted me to keep a close watch on Abby’s injury and her temperament, guarding against infection or a more aggravated neurological problem. I medicated the gash and replaced the bandage as gently as possible.

*

A floor board creaked and whined under Abby’s tiptoe in the hallway. The sound roused me, my ears prickling, since I taught myself to listen for her every night when she got up to pace. I couldn’t relax enough to sleep until she took her stroll through my flat each night. The unease and confusion of her condition forced her up in the middle of the night in search of her missing time, her missing memories, something to jar her brain back into full function. Each night I listened, prepared to be there at her side if she needed me.

Tonight, like the night before, the one before that and each night since I got her to my flat, she paused at the closed door of the guest bedroom where I retired to give her space. Lending my bedroom was a respect I extended to her until she regained her memories or remembered who I was and what we meant to each other. Sleeping in my bed would help enforce the familiar instead of putting her in the guestroom where we rarely entered.

I held my breath, craving her presence, wanting so much for her to seek me out, come to me. In those first days after her hospital stay, she was so cautious with me. She was a wounded animal ready to run and hide at the first sign of a predator. It hurt like no other pain in the world to have the woman I loved scared and fearing my proximity. Her shyness and flight over fight manner were responsible more than a repulsion, and her avoidance wasn’t personal, but I wanted to touch her as much as she always had.

Each night, I wanted to go to her, be her foundation of support, help her in whatever capacity I could. The night before she allowed it, she allowed me to hold her, to soothe her, comfort her. Those minutes helped renew my spirit in knowing I was the person to be at her side through all this mess. But at the same time, I couldn’t crowd her, couldn’t force the healing with my confidence. Intelligence wouldn’t heal her missing memories.

My fingers itched to feel the texture of her hair sliding between my fingertips, my arms empty without my girl in them, her curves cushioning the lines and rigidity of my body. I felt empty without her love, her consideration, her compliments on me. Her vulnerability shown through, and she had finally sought refuge in my arms. It had been only mere moments, until she pulled away, putting space between us again.

At first, she burrowed, searching for her most comfortable spot against me, the smallest of movements that only I noticed. But then she was gone again, pulling away from me, maintaining a respectable distance.

Until tonight…

Then her footsteps led away, and Abby went into the living room. I cringed against the blinding disappointment that she didn’t come to me. Patience is a virtue, a merit I was running low on.

Rolling over, I pulled the duvet closer around my shoulders, my body bereft of a petite woman with a heart of gold. I sighed, beating the pillows in my frustration of being without my girl, the stale scent of detergent filling my nose. Closing my eyes out of habit, I rested and went through the motions of falling asleep, though I felt more hollow than sleepy.

The door knob turned, the wench sliding slowly in its ball bearings, giving and moving, then a tiny voice cut through the darkness, “Tom?”

I sat up, releasing the iron fist on the duvet from my wrestling match with the bed clothes. “Abby? Are you alright, love?”

The door closed behind her, and I could just make out her silhouette in the darkness. She hesitated in the doorway, lingering against the far wall, her little frame hunched in nervousness. I swung my legs out of bed and crossed to her. “What’s the matter? What do you need?”

Her downcast eyes were trained away from me, her apparent embarrassment showing in her posture. “May I- would- cccan- may I stay with you here?”

My heart swelled in my chest, at the extension of trust in me, however unsure. I tempered the pride in my tone and said, “Of course, whatever you need…” I took her trembling hand and led her to the bed. She folded herself into the tiniest ball under the duvet that I tucked her up in, cocooning her in warmth. I took my place on the other side, giving her a wide berth to avoid making her feel crowded.

As much as I wanted to take her into my arms, I couldn’t lose her to her nerves, her anticipation for running and hiding that seeped from her pores.

The only sounds in the room was the random crack as the midcentury house settled against the foundation. Abby seemed to be holding her breath, scared to release or relax any part of her. Stubbornly she didn’t move or unfurl, kept herself perfectly still to not draw attention to her.

I stayed on my side of the mattress, maybe holding my own breath, knowing that if I frightened her, I could delay getting her back. My skin ached for her, to keep her close. I fought every instinct, every ounce of male ego, arrogant possession not to pull her in and never let go. Having her so close was an agony like no other, the proximity made the pain of separation acutely present.

“Tom?” Her voice trembled with her internal conflict wanting to be with someone to combat her loneliness and hiding in the fetal position in self-preservation. The tone of it still sounded as though she was getting used to my name.”

“Yeah?”

“I- Yesterday, um, you - you – you care for me,” she stated. “I can tell.”

“I do, Abby, very much.”

“I’m sorry. This situation can’t be easy for you. You’ve given up so much to babysit me.”

“Oh, God, Abby! I would never think of you like that, love. I’ve done this because I love you. You needed help. I couldn’t leave you alone,” I promised sincerely, searching the darkness for the correct words to say to comfort her. “I miss us. I want to be by your side…”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is weird - for me,” she admitted quietly, lying on the mattress beside me. “I’ve had this whole other life that I don’t remember… and I feel like I’m playing catch up.”

“To be fair, we haven’t known each other for that long, Abby,” I told her pragmatically. “You know most of your life, the more recent events are fuzzy or forgotten.”

“But you know so much about me and I don’t know you. It’s intimidating… that you know me.”

The statement punched me in the gut, the complete opposite of what I was going for in providing a safe place for her to stay. I let out a breath of disappointment. Looking for something to do and something to say, I apologized, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted you to feel comfortable with me. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Aside from being insanely attracted to her when we were cast side by side, I seduced her to make her relax around me. I’d spent so long wearing down her reservations while we were lovers and this amnesia took all that away from her, from me and from us.

She tsked with a quick click of her tongue. “I’m not saying things right.” She placed her good hand on her head as she stuttered for her thought, searching for another way to say it. “You don’t intimidate me. You’ve been wonderful, patient and supportive. The amount of time that I need to… relearn… is… intimidating.”

“Abigail…”

“Tom, thank you for – you don’t make me feel dumb or less than…” she mumbled and dropped off, losing her words again. It was the middle of the night, and she got muddled when she was tired, her responses slowing as the day wore on. 

“I don’t think any less of you, Abby. The accident, your condition, this situation, none of this is your fault. Whether you know me or not, all of that doesn’t unmake the girl I fell in love with.”

“How?” she nearly whispered.

For confirmation, I repeated her question, “How did I fall in love with you?” It was the question that I’d been attempting to answer in the best light I could think of, but I hadn’t come up with the right way without scaring the shy girl. I wasn’t ashamed, but ours wasn’t the typical love story.

I couldn’t see her, but I heard her head nod against the pillows.

“We were cast in a play together in July, playing husband and wife. You were- you knew some of my work, though we’d never met. You were so good, your instincts were spot on, your delivery was excellent.”

Reminiscing with her over our first weeks together was one my favorite subjects. “Your talent, Abby- you captivated me within- I was smitten straight away.”

“But we- you said that we’ve only been together a few months?”

“We got together on Christmas Eve, but we’ve been involved since we worked together.”

“Oh,” she said not truly understanding the difference at first. Her breath hitched and a sharper, “Oh!” followed shortly afterwards. Her right hand flew up to cover her racing her heartbeat, as she let the information sink in.

I propped myself up on my left elbow to search for her in the dark. The inclination to reach for her was paralyzing, wanting it so much, so strongly, that I could taste it but resisting for her sake. “Abby, I told you that I seduced you for all the wrong reasons, and that much is true. What you don’t know- what you don’t remember – we were in love long before we admitted it. I was too proud and too stupid to confess and let my heart feel what you awakened in me. You, my beautiful Abigail, were too shy, but you were telling me for months in every other way but verbally.”

She remained silent for a long time, and I was left in limbo wondering what she was thinking or feeling as she worked through the truth of our past, our beginning really. I couldn’t imagine the rationalizing and analyzing or the questions and logistics that were rolling around her head. The confusion she experienced day to day was taxing enough on her, but the added pressure of learning that she’d been having an affair with a man she didn’t know – I didn’t envy her struggle to catch up.

After a long while of complete torture and ringing in my ears, she finally said, “Hm, I must really fancy you then.”

I smiled, grateful for the cloak of darkness to hide my pride. “You were terribly shy then, Abby, and kept running away from me. But you love to be touched, the physical affirmation that you’re not alone – to be someone’s focus, and you were mine. I couldn’t get enough of you.”

My girl went painfully quiet again, wrestling with the information I gave her. Once she spoke up again, I understood why.

“Tom?”

“Yes, love.”

“Will you… hold me?”

“Of course, baby.” I spoke the familiar pet name in the hopes that she would understand that my heart was in a different place than when we first met. I didn’t want to pressure her in that direction. Tonight, in the darkness, after she came to me, she needed the confirmation. She needed the intimacy and closeness of a stable relationship, not as lovers but as friends.

I moved back down, putting the pillow under my head and pulled my girl into the circle of my arms. She placed her head upon my chest, finding her comfortable niche against me.

That night, in the darkness, in the guest bedroom of my flat, my Abigail let me hold her again. She wanted that physical contact, but I think in coming to me, she actually did it for me.

She trembled at first, terrified to open up, especially in a bedroom with a relative stranger. She was stretching her boundaries for me and I did all I could to respect them. In not pushing her to accept me, she was learning why pre-accident Abby loved me.

Eventually her trembling subsided and stopped, her breathing slowed until she fell asleep against me. Her broken wrist flung across my middles, the plaster cast uncomfortable under her relaxed weight and gravity. I honestly didn’t care a bit since Abby was in my embrace again.

I didn’t sleep that night, not a wink, didn’t attempt it. Instead I enjoyed every minute that ticked by with Abby in her nook against me, where she belonged, her peach scent filling my nose, her head once again using my heartbeat as her pillow. This was meant to be, and I felt renewed for it.

This was worth the heartbreak of Abby not recognizing me or remembering what we had. She was learning to trust me again, possibly like me again.

I had my girl back in my arms, she was real, she was alive, a bit less than whole with a few broken bones and a few missing memories, but she was safe with me, against me. I had her.

The woman slipped away just as the light started to illuminate the window to gray. I physically hurt, ached inside when she withdrew again. The pain stung under my skin, my pores protesting the loss, my mind screaming to pull her back in, but I let her go without a word.

She tiptoed from the room as silently as she could, and I heard her close the door to conceal herself in my bedroom, what had become her sanctuary. I didn’t try to stop her or let her know I was awake. I was walking the fine line of trust with her.

She wanted to hide again, I’d let her. I believed that she would come back. It hurt being without her, but when she came back, it was so much sweeter. Like the day before when she allowed me to comfort her after her game of memory when horribly wrong. Like last night when she found me to hold her when she needed human contact.

Under normal circumstances, Abby wasn’t an early riser. She loved a lie-in, reaping the benefits of each moment of rest she could squeeze out of a day. She wasn’t lazy, just enjoyed her down time.

Except this morning.

I heard the tell-tale sounds of her running water from the tub tap to do a hand wash. It was her work-around with the plaster cast on her arm, to avoid getting it wet. My sister, Emma, had come over to help Abby in the first few days to bathe and get used to the cast. My girl had been so bashful about allowing me to see her bare shoulder, let alone the rest of her that I had to ring Emma to lend a hand.

Abby didn’t remember Emma either, but she seemed to respond better to having a female companion for bathroom activities than me.

I dragged myself out of bed and slogged through my morning rituals to be read to help Abby and her daily routine. When I emerged from the guest bedroom, my girl was seated at the kitchen counter, trying her hand at a soduku puzzle on her own. She’d collected her ointment, gauze pads and medical tape for me to change the dressing on her wound.

I wasn’t used to her anticipating what needed to be done. I asked suspiciously, “Is it paining you this morning?”

She looked up at me, though managed to avoid meeting my gaze. “No, no… no, it’s alright. I’m alright.” Abby placed the book of puzzles on the worktop, dog-eared the page she was actively working on, and closed her pencil in the crease, giving me her full attention.

Smiling to myself at the ingrained behavior in her, I recognized not only the place holder in the book, but turning her focus on me. “Your head doesn’t hurt?” I checked again.

“No, I’m alright. A dull ache.”

Stepping in front of her as she rotated the bar stool in my direction, I held her head between my hands, as part of our routine. I peeled back the gauze that I put on twelve hours before. The skin underneath showed little improvement from the night before, but I dabbed the scabbing and bruising to keep the area clean.

Abby’s gaze focused straight in front of her, the center of my chest. She wore an aura of confusion, more questions that she wanted to ask, but couldn’t or wouldn’t put into words. A small furrow of her brow appeared before disappearing just as quickly when the expression caused her discomfort.

I smiled into her forehead, “What is it, Abby? Speak up, love.”

Brief eye contact, before she returned to the t-shirt I wore. “Are you going away? On a journey? A holiday?”

Mentally I quieted the joy that ran through me when I detected a note of disappointment in her question. I obviously didn’t want her to feel any kind of negativity, but knowing that the idea of our being apart would upset her gave me some hope that I was gaining my girl back. Shaking my head, I asked curiously, “Where am I going, love?” Her somber mood concerned me.

“I didn’t mean to listen… I heard you - on the phone – yesterday… I’m sorry,” she pointed behind me in the direction of my office, indicating the hallway. “You – you said – a tour, Hawaii – Are you going away?”

“You overheard my conversation with Luke,” I said, applying the antibiotic salve to her sore.

She nodded slightly with another whispered apology, guilt blanketing her expression and the downcast of her eyes.

“Abby, you don’t need to apologize,” I propped her chin up. “What you heard, it’s- Luke- Hawaii was going to be our first holiday together. We were meant to leave next week, but I had Luke cancel it for us.”

Her jaw dropped. “I’ve never been out of England before,” she breathed out in a rush, thoughts, anxiety, information all in one go. She then inhaled sharply, “Have I?”

With a grin, I said, “No, not yet. It would’ve been your first. I did invite you to New York before,” I brushed my finger down the slope of her nose. “But you turned me down.”

A squeak escaped the back of her throat, in surprise and perhaps a bit crestfallen. “New York. Hawaii,” she repeated in wonderment. Slowly her eyes slid up to finally meet mine. “Who are you?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart skipped a beat, thinking that Abigail’s condition had gone from improved to worse. She didn’t register a visceral response from me, though I felt like England had fallen off the planet. The little forefinger of her good hand shot up into the air, “You have a posh flat in Primrose Hill, a posh car, and offering me posh holidays to New York and Hawaii.” As an afterthought, she blurted, “And you have a Luke!”

England was back on the map in the Northern Hemisphere with her explanation, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I laughed at her cute statement about our friend and my publicist. “I’ve been lucky with my career as an actor. I’ve worked steadily since my first series on telly.”

Awestruck and gobsmacked, Abby asked, “Are you Ewan McGregor?”

“I’m not Ewan,” I said with a grin as I watched her expression for a clue as to why Ewan. “Is he one of yours?”

She turned her face away from me and blushed crimson. “He’s… not… he’s just… well, he’s um… pretty.”

I nudged her chin back up, “I’m in very good company. But not an Abby World boyfriend?”

“You know about that?”

I applied a sterile gauze over her wound, taping the sides to hold it in place, avoiding her hair under the sticky surface. “You tried very hard to hide it, love. But I couldn’t pull your attention away from Richard Hammond…”

Her working hand covered her mouth as she let out an ‘Oh!’ sound. The giggling sounded muffled behind her clasped hand over her lips, but she might have been the most precious creature I’d ever seen. Her eyes were clear of pain, and her youthful exuberance arrested me. Her somber mood gave yielded to some enthusiasm.

The green-eyed monster grew in the pit of stomach, roaring to claim her as mine, to ensure that she forgot every other man and remembered only me. I swallowed my pride, swallowed the jealousy that whispered to me quietly in the back of my mind.

In an effort to keep the jealousy in check, I rotated towards the counter, throwing all my concentration in kitting up her ointments and medications. I breathed in deeply, pulling the air into my body to cool the heat of boiling temper. Rationally I knew that Abby only had me, there was nobody else, no other man called her mobile or came looking for her, but the possibility cut me deeply.

Her friend Henry called but the amnesia had blocked his existence from her life too, to my delight. He asked to see her while she was recovering at my flat, but I begged him off until she remembered, if she did. Luckily, Henry respected my place in her life, as caregiver, as boyfriend, as family, to stay away, for now.

I couldn’t keep her secluded forever, but the doctor wanted to limit too many new or recent stimuli to her regimen until she wasn’t as confused. Baby steps were best, until she felt more herself and felt ready to handle more.

Abby noticed my shutdown, saw me pull away from her, saw the rough treatment of the small box of her medical supplies. I felt her small hand on my shoulder, tentative but comforting. When I looked back over my shoulder, she was inches from my face. “I think you’re the prettiest,” she whispered in mock confidence, miming a secret between us.

The simple statement spoke of her intuition into what I needed, what I was feeling, what I missed with her missing time. She clued into that, and in those five words, she did what she could to restore some of what I needed.

She pulled her hand back again and rested it in her lap. “So how steadily?” she asked after a few moments perceiving my vague response to her initial question about who I was, bypassing the gray moments of jealousy. This was her way of getting back to the subject of my career. She wanted to understand. Her question dripped of doubt and uncertainty, almost skepticism.

Embracing the change of subject, I laughed out loud, unable to contain how much joy I got out of her personality shining through, that bubbly uncontainable spirit that got me, hook, line and sinker. “Uh,” I began, reasoning quickly how much to tell her. “Since right out of drama school.”

“Which drama school?”

“I attended RADA.”

She pushed a breath through her lips, aware of the reputation and the caliber of performer that came out of that institution, also the sizable tuition that went with it. “I never went to drama school,” she voiced as an afterthought.

“You didn’t need to, love. You’re a keen observer, a natural,” I told her truthfully. Abby spent so much time being quiet that it tuned her into other interactions, watching other people, absorbing mannerisms and facial expressions.

“And you’ve been on telly?” she asked as I got to my feet to check her bandage on her head, to make sure it was secure.

I nodded, adjusting how low the bandage dipped below her eyebrow. My confirmation had a big impact on her. I explained, “After our play, you were on telly too, love.” I loathed bringing up those months that she spent on the BBC, her creepy producer and a job she was released from because of said producer, but she’d learn of it eventually.

“Was I?”

“You hated it, not the part on the show itself, but the experience of it. Didn’t end well,” I replied to her innocent question. I was grateful that she didn’t remember the unfortunate events with her unprofessional producer

Abby nodded silently, sitting back and playing with a bit of her plaster cast. She did well learning facts about herself, turning introspective for a few minutes to organize her thinking. “So,” she sing-songed. “You’re on telly now?”

“I’m involved in a miniseries for the BBC… I’ve got a few more days of shooting to finish it up.” I got up and moved around the counter to put her box away in the cupboard and set the kettle going for breakfast.

“You’re being vague,” she stated disapprovingly.

Grinning, I nodded. “It’s called The Hollow Crown, it’s a collection of Shakepeare’s plays.” I continued explaining to the amazed expression on Abby’s beautiful face. I told her a brief summary of each of the stories and how my character worked into three of the four stories. At the same time, I prepared breakfast for her and I to eat before we worked on her script for an hour and a half.

“You’re a star,” she said at the end of my explanation of my current role. Her voice was awed and airily, sounding star struck after all of it. “For big epic miniseries like that, they’re going to invest in well-known actors, yeah?” She’d turned her attention back on me, forgetting her nerves and her shyness.

“That’s true.”

She squinted at me, giving me a sideways look, “Are you sure you’re not Ewan?”

Laughing, I leaned in over the countertop closer to her and confirmed, “Not Ewan. I’m Tom but I have worked with him. Good man, good friend.”

Abby got a far off look and sat perfectly still. It was difficult to know for sure what surprised her most, that I’d worked with someone she knew by name, that I was friends with someone she knew by name, or the possibility that I was a name.

I reached across the counter and stroked my hand down her hair, my signature gesture of affection for her. I wanted to bring her back to the present, maybe remind her of our dynamic. Abby blinked, staring straight at me, her eyes wider than usual. She didn’t recognize the gesture, but she blushed and gave me a little tiny smile. “Am I… Kate Winslet?”

Laughing loudly with my head thrown back at her question, I shook my head. “No, Abby. You’re my Abby.” I grabbed her good hand and urged her up onto her feet, leading her out of the kitchen. Since the subject had changed from me to her, I made the decision to share something with her that she didn’t know yet, a bit to fill in the blanks for our life together.

We paused to be sure she got her feet beneath her and she didn’t get dizzy from getting up too quickly. She gave me a nod that she was alright, that she was okay to follow me. I led her down the hall to my office where I kept a lot of my important possessions, contracts, scripts, awards, notes about characters, articles that I kept, and any memorabilia that I kept as mementos from any of the plays, series or movies I performed.

I sat in my computer chair behind my desk and grasped Abby’s waist. Without thinking, I pulled her down into my lap. She showed the smallest hint of resistance by hesitating, but within that moment, she allowed herself to let go. It was the barest hint of reluctance and it made me take notice. When she let go, I felt her relax into it. She sat across my legs and I went for what I came for, what I wanted to show Abby.

“I keep some of my most prized possessions in this drawer,” I said as explanation as I reached for the top right hand drawer of my desk. As I pulled out each thing, I explained them to her. “This key. This was a key to the room that I stayed in when I shot my second movie, Archipalego. It’s the only thing I have from that shoot.” I handed it to her to let her examine it.

“When I toured with a theatre group called Cheek By Jowl a few years ago, we traveled to different cities in Europe and even America and Canada. I found this,” I handed her a strange ring with an insignia on it. “I never found the significance, but this I found in the depths of a theatre in France. The theatre manager allowed me to keep it after I found it. It became my memento of that tour.”

I pulled out a few ‘staged’ crime scene photos from my time on Wallander, the ‘money’ used for Suburban Shootout, and a playing card from Unrelated. These were all significant milestones in my career and represented a year of my life and my accomplishments. Abby was quiet as she studied each piece of my history and then put them back in the drawer.

I handed her the program from the play I did with Abby and let her examine it on her own. “This is from your West End debut, and you starred opposite me. This opened doors for you, led you to the BBC after.”

“You kept this?” she asked stroking her hand over the cover.

“This,” I pointed to the program. “This was my first theatre job after doing a few major studio films. This one meant a lot to me, because I met you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You. Met. Me,” she echoed, absorbing it into her brain and into her heart, I hoped. We’d been together for a fair amount of time, considering she was never meant to be anything more than a fling, a couple of nights of passion to satisfy an urge. But her response to me was so addictive. When she was with me, she was there entirely, committed, engaged in the moment, connected to me physically, emotionally.

I’d never felt that level of interaction with another girlfriend, lover, woman, friend… person, to be honest.

My Abigail clung to me because she was so desperate for human contact, and in a way, she might have used me at first too. The celebrity and the fangirl, but we stepped away from that into a deeper more meaningful relationship, and it was completely unintentional. We both dropped our guards and opened up emotionally to the other…

Abby had dropped her guard, mine was almost down.

With that beautiful, innocent face garnering what we meant to each other, for the first time, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to forget that last barrier, trust her as she had since losing her memory, and still I didn’t. Still my pride came first, and I kept all the skeletons in the proverbial closet in there. The longer I waited to tell her the harder it became to tell the truth of what I feared most.

I couldn’t face Abby’s judgment, the pure heart who didn’t judge others, only herself. My horrible past was something worth scorn, worth derision, and I couldn’t face even the possibility of Abby judging me.

Burying my past again, I stroked my hand down her hair again, like I’d done in the kitchen, like I’d done for so many months. “Yes, baby, we met, and we’ve been together almost daily since then.”

After showing Abby the program for our West End production, we went back to the kitchen to finish breakfast before I did the washing up. My girl seemed eager to tackle the day with me by her side after our discussion. She responded favorably to all the information and wanted to see what else she could learn.

Memorizing her script was a slow frustrating process. We’d read through the entire text a number of times over the past five days, absorbing the plot, the characters, the themes and Abby could paraphrase the plot on her own. The committing the dialogue to memory was very slow. We took it on scene by scene, but Abby wasn’t retaining it as quickly as usual. She was close to having one three page scene down, with only some grasping for the next line. I put it aside at her first sign of distress, a small vocalization from her throat signaled the end of that session.

We took our daily walk through Regents Park about midday as part of the routine that I set up for her. She bounced back from her struggle with the script, and her infectious smile was addictive. After a fortnight of seeing so little of it, she was beaming, becoming her former self. I was chuffed to bits that she was thriving so much, proud of her from coming out on top of something so horrific as a car accident and amnesia.

I caught myself watching her profile instead of the typical London day as she prattled on about her character in the script. She loved chatting it up, and it was fascinating how much she got out of the text the more she talked of it.

London was shaking free of the last desperate cling of Mother Nature to her wintery son, ready to embrace her other warmer child. Abby was dressed in layers and layers of my clothes making her look like a cartoon character. We hadn’t yet found the keys to her flat, though I suspected she left them in her dressing room at the theatre. She was planning to spend the night with me after the BAFTAs when the accident happened.

Commenting teasingly, I said when she ran out of steam on her monologue about her character, “Maybe we might take the bandage off tonight.”

Alarmed, her pleading eyes looked up at me and snapped, “No!” The abrupt exclamation surprised the both of us, Abby more so than me. Her eyes went wide before she looked away again, towards her feet along the paved path. I saw worry, edging on panic. She then ran her hand over her hair in a nervous gesture. Covering her small outburst, she shielded her face from me. “I think- I still – I want the… bandage on.”

When she didn’t look at me again, I agreed to soothe her nervousness, “Okay, Abby, we can leave it on until you’re comfortable.”

Absently, she said, “Soon.” She kept her expression hidden from me as she swiftly changed the subject, “May I ask you something else, Tom?”

A few bicyclists were headed our way, so I reached for Abby and put her in front of me, to let the cyclists through while we hugged the outskirt of the path. I held her waist until we were out of danger and released her again in the center of the sidewalk. “Of course, love. Go on then.”

“You said… I got Hawaii and that we were meant to go. But the tour?”

I nodded, knowing this was going to coming up again. “It’s scheduled… in a month,” I admitted. She still didn’t know the scope of my career or the contractual obligations that it encompassed.

“Where are you going? Is it a play?”

“No, not exactly,” I started with a sigh. I couldn’t be sure how she would react to my role as Loki and all that that entailed. “It’s difficult to explain, love. Recently…” I huffed a small laugh, mentally planning all I had to tell her. “When we met, I’d just done my third major studio film. A sequel actually.”

She perked up at that, “You’ve been in a sequel?”

“I have. I’ve been very lucky, fell in with the right people at the right time and it led me to an audition in LA,” I simplified as much as possible. If she knew Ewan, she would probably know Kenneth Branaugh. I could lose her to fangirling. “I was cast as a Hollywood newcomer in a superhero movie.”

She repeated, tasting the words, “Superhero movie.” She was trying to reason what that meant. Her steps slowed as she wrapped her mind around it. “Are you Batman? Like Christian Bale?”

Laughing, I said, “Something like that. When we met, I’d just come from New York where I finished filming the sequel.”

Her good hand raised to stop me and earned another sideways glance. “Tom, how often are you in New York?”

“Not often, but I need to go back in a few weeks’ time for promotion on this film. It’s coming out in cinemas, an early summer blockbuster movie.”

Abby froze in the middle of the walkway, absorbing the blow of the word blockbuster. Generally speaking, she was a creature of habit, fancying her small routine, her tiny radius of her life. This was beyond her scope, and her reaction was why I’d been treading lightly with her, tiptoeing around the truth.

I quickly rotated towards her and faced her at our mid walk point, but she wouldn’t look at me. My trainers got her unseeing focus, “Abby? Sweetheart?”

“You really are, Ewan.” This time, it wasn’t a joke, but an almost outrageous, beyond belief statement. A severely quiet one at that. She was pulling into herself, some of the air left her sails.

“Abby, look at me.”

She shook her head to deny me, her good hand clutching at the jacket she wore, my jacket, her bad hand splaying her fingers at random.

Sternly, I repeated, “Abby, look at me, love.” I knew she was hiding from me.

Abby relented and looked up me, holding her breath.

“This changes nothing between us, love. You’re still my girl and I’m your beautiful man, when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere without you or without knowing that you’re alright.”

Her eyes darted to the right over my shoulder, looking beyond me.

“Abby, I know this is a lot for you to take in, but my ‘celebrity’ as it were – for lack of a better term – has no little to do with us and how we work.”

Her eyes misted over with unshed tears, the sight of her unhappy or tormented tore at my heart. I waited for her to tell me what troubled her about the scope of my career, what bothered her. Her breath wavered on an inhale and she finally spoke, “A patient, gorgeous, intelligent, well-known man… what’re you doing with me?”

“Abigail,” I spoke softly, bringing her back to me, by cupping my hands around her face. “You. Your heart. Your mind. Your affection. That’s all I want.”

She was visibly upset, put on the spot with nowhere to run off. “H-h-how – you? Me?”

From the outside observer, perhaps Abby and I didn’t work as a couple. My education was more detailed than hers. She was from the country, while I was from the city. She was shy, reserved, while I was confident and forward. I loved new adventures and she preferred home. We weren’t opposites though but evened each other out. Abby was put in the observer position with her amnesia, but it hurt that she questioned her place with me.

“We’re Tom and Abby, love. Hearts don’t know class or station or education or accomplishments. My heart knows that you are the most compassionate and the sweetest girl to ever step into my life… trip into my life.” I smiled for her. “That’s how we work, baby.”

*

“I want to watch,” she announced with false bravado, not to me directly, but to the room in general. She’d been hiding in my bedroom for the past hour since returning from our walk and I let her. She was intimidated by my accomplishments, the places I’d been, the people I knew. She couldn’t see how she fit into all of that.

For me, she brought a sense of normalcy to my life, a grounding force, a welcome whimsical, playful, happy vibe with an appreciation for all the qualities that made me who I was. She liked my talent and career, but loved the man more than the actor.

I’d kept so much of myself from her, careful to let her in, but when I let her in, she always fell deeper in love with me. And yet, I couldn’t completely let her know everything, knowing there was a limit to forgiveness that she would extend to me.

“Are you sure about that, Abby?”

“No, but I want to know about you,” she admitted reluctantly. “How did we…?” She didn’t finish her thought, but I understood.

The gap between my life and hers was monumentally huge. We didn’t travel in the same circles. There was no reason for us to fall in love and work the way we did. “Would watching my portrayal of a villain character help you figure that out?” I waved her in, beckoning her to come into the room.

Careful slow steps brought her closer and she sat as far as she could from me. In her nervousness, she ran her fingers over the rough surface of her plaster cast. She mumbled, “I don’t know. I need to make sense of… things.”

I put my book aside on the coffee table and turned towards her on the sofa. “I’ll put the movie on, if you think it will help,” I said helpfully. “Or you could ask me, talk to me.”

A flirty smile appeared at the corner of her mouth as I looked at her profile. “Shy Abigail,” she commented with a tiny self-deprecating scoff.

“You are, but you don’t have to be with me, baby.”

She took a deep breath, rallying her inner strength, pulling her bravery in around her. “Okay,” she declared definitively. She looked determined like the night she first told me that she loved me. She’d reached the end of her rope, realizing that it wasn’t getting her anywhere. She didn’t look at me, but she’d let the meek coat she wore go.

“I want to see what you do.” Her voice was steady. “But can you tell me something?”

“Something.”

It took her a split second before she giggled at one of the oldest jokes going. “Are these the kinds of conversations we have?”

“Yes, though you’re the one with the sassy comebacks. I tried to teach you how to make ice for a second time.”

“That couldn’t have gone well. I don’t do kitchens or cooking.”

I laughed, “Filling the ice tray is not cooking.”

“There are ingredients and utensils involved,” she countered. “That’s cooking!”

Surrendering, I said, “This conversation isn’t going any better now than it did then.”

“What did I say?”

“Fork you.”

She was laughing again, a clear, happy gorgeous sound. “Clever!”

This exchange somehow reversed our roles, and I couldn’t help but stare at her in amazement. “You stole my line. I’m usually the one to pat myself on the back.”

“I understand the impulse,” she complimented sweetly. It took all my self-control not to pull her against me and kiss her until she remembered me.

“What’s the something you wanted to know, Abby?”

Her timid nature laced in and imbedded itself in her tone but she asked, “Did I tell you that I loved you first, Tom?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” That statement seemed to become her mantra whenever it came to information about our love life. She filed everything I told her internally.

“Can you answer one for me?”

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip.

“In hospital, you were more comfortable with me than you have been since I got you here. Why?”

“Tom, you looked so out of place there. You’re so suave and charming and elegant… medical supplies don’t suit you. Felt like neutral territory. I was uncomfortable, but so were you. But… here? You fit here.”

“As do you, Abby.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I left Abby in the living room on the sofa with a choice of reading or puzzling while I made dinner for the two of us in the kitchen. She picked another Jane Austen novel, Sense and Sensibility, to pass the time before supper was made. I was relieved that she’d chosen that over the memory game or soduku while I wasn’t beside her for blocking or subverting a fit of frustration. Reading was good for her and something she could do on her own without tears or throwing things.

I hadn’t left her alone for a great amount of time as I was only grilling up a couple of chicken breasts, steaming vegetables and throwing a salad together. I set the silverware and plates on the kitchen table, before laying out the salad.

“Abby? Do you want me to change your bandage before dinner or after the movie?” I called across the hall into the living room.

She didn’t answer straight away, but I heard her get up from the sofa and tread through to the kitchen to find me. Since returning from our walk and our discussion about watching Thor, Abby was doing her best to combat her shyness. She dressed for sleeping, in one of my bigger t-shirts and not much else, as was her habit when she knew we weren’t going out again. She wore the same every night, but tonight, I craved her.

The sight of her bare legs was dangerous for my libido, my imagination already undressing her. I knew every curve, every plane, every inch of flesh under that thin layer of cotton and my mind was mapping her body. I’d been itching for her, needing to feel her skin against mine, longing for the pulse of her heat around me, breathing in her passion for me.

It wasn’t just about sex with Abby, as it had been at first, what it had meant to be. The physical act of being with her was phenomenal, amazing, incredible, but it wasn’t about the end, it was all of it and it was something inherently us. Her and me together. Our interactions, our chemistry, it all boiled together into something better. We just were and it was worthy of symphonies and sonnets.

Half naked amnesia girl made a beeline for her barstool in answer to my question, and it took more than sheer will from pouncing on her.

Abby wanted me in change the dressing on her forehead. I grinned to myself at her immediate response to my question. Her instinct from day one had been to follow my lead, her instinct as unconscious as breathing.

As she settled in, wiggling her bum along the seat to make sure she was seated all the way on, I fetched her medical kit from the cupboard. I gave her a wink, making my way around the countertop. I asked her, “How are the Dashwoods, baby?”

“They’ve all arrived at Devonshire,” she responded, swiveling the chair in my direction.

“You’re on an Austen kick,” to which I earned an enthusiastic nod. “It’s a novel idea.” I wasn’t sure how she’d get on with the puns after her injury, but I thought I’d give it a go, to see how responsive she was and how quickly she could reason a response.

She giggled and rested her broken wrist on the countertop for a bit of elevation. Her eyes went skyward, searching her knowledge for a suitable response, which in itself was encouraging enough. I eased her chin up to tip her head back so I could watch her. Her lips were stuck between her teeth in concentration and her eyes were alive.

She blinked in quick succession, looked up again, and then a quiet hum sounded from her. Like Bambi on the ice, she tested, “I think… I’m in – a bind?”

I very nearly lost my head and kissed her on the spot, there in my kitchen, with the vegetables and chicken cooking on the stove. The gorgeous woman that I adored was conquering her impediment and it was a powerful relief that came over me. There was hope, at least I interpreted it to my advantage, my want, that my Abigail would regain her memories.

I nodded slowly, giving her a grin and a chuckle. “Punning Abigail. That’s my girl.”

She comically rolled her eyes at me. “It was weak, at best.”

“You’ll get better. You’re doing so well, amazing actually.”

“Tom, I’m afraid something might fall out again.”

“I’ll be here to pick it back up and put it back in there.” I rifled through her box for the dressing change and the ointment for her head wound. I peeled back the gauze and medical tape, her eyes watched me.

Taking the mickey, she asked, “What are you called again?”

I focused on her face as it broke with a brilliant smile.

*

After dinner, I did the washing up while Abby returned to her spot on the sofa for movie night. The blu-ray was loaded in the player, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about my amnesiac girlfriend watching me as Loki. She’d already reacted less than I’d hoped she would when I told her about my celebrity. Instead of embodying her fangirl persona, she went to the opposite and I missed her excitement.

I couldn’t help but acknowledge that I took advantage of her fangirl crush on me when we worked together. In the back of my head, I hoped that watching my portrayal would push her into my arms. I was of two minds about it, because I wanted to earn her heart fairly, removing the star power from it.

In public, we didn’t flaunt our relationship, wanting to keep it between us, to maintain the special. At the same token, she wasn’t my dirty little secret, one of her fears months into our affair. I was never ever ashamed of having her in my life or in my bed. I was more than proud to have her, and I hoped that Abby watching my turn as Loki would provoke the same emotion in her.

*

“Abby, come on then, if you’re coming, baby,” I called to the closed door. Her nightly walk led her to the door to the guestroom where I was. She didn’t hesitate last night or the night before after watching Thor, instead chose not to come to me. I couldn’t figure out her reason or her motivation.

Her behavior while watching the movie was typical. She’d been engrossed in the plot, swept up in the spectacle of it, but she gave no indication as to what she thought. 48 hours later, I was still in the dark, literally and figuratively. We went through her routine that day as normal, bandage change, script review and memorization, walk through the park, puzzles, memory game, reading, bandage change and then dinner and a movie.

She wasn’t bland or stiff or cold or anxious after watching the film. It was a sort of silent acceptance, but I felt like I was in limbo, waiting for the fallout or backlash or delayed reaction.

Yet tonight, in the dark, it didn’t matter what she felt about Loki, since she felt drawn to me again. She was standing with her feet towards the door, deciding whether to knock or enter. I could just make out her toes from the nightlight I’d put in the hallway months ago for her.

“What if I’m not here?” was her muffled reply.

I smiled to the ceiling at her playful retort. She didn’t want me to catch her in the act of seeking me out. I answered, “But I know you’re there.”

“No you don’t.”

“Alright then. I’m going to get up for a midnight snack,” I said, giving her ample time to run and hide if she wanted. I saw her feet shuffle from side to side, debating if she wanted to be found of if she wanted to pretend like this hadn’t happened. I slowly got up from the bed, stretching the moments as long as possible to give her time.

Her little feet didn’t move any great distance, only a small little dance of nerves, while I strode to the door as slowly as possible to give her time. I held the knob, paused, and finally opened the door to find petite Abby on the other side, looking almost surprised.

She looked almost shocked that she allowed herself to be found. No skin off my nose, I’d let her have it, play along with her, if it made her feel more comfortable.

“Abby,” I said with mock delighted surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

I nodded. “Want a biscuit? I’ve got hobknobs in the cupboard.”

“I don’t think you do,” she smirked. A light shuffling of her barefeet gave her away. She’d eaten the last of them.

“Were you in the kitchen again?”

“I borrowed them, but I didn’t break anything this time. At least I don’t think I did.”

“Come with me, you little minx,” I took her hand and tugged her along with me to find some sort of substitute for hobknobs. Emma had been running to Sainsbury’s for me while I took care of Abby. My girl was entirely capable of being left alone since she wasn’t a danger to herself or anything else. It was my personal preference to be there for her if she needed something. I didn’t crowd her, just remained within earshot or assisted her with the studying. I kept to my nearly daily run, leaving Abby to have a lie-in if she wanted.

Abby’s hand was cooler than mine, but her giddiness was there, flowing through at a steady even clip. Over the last two days since watching Thor with me, she’d almost improved, personally with me. By showing her a small portion of my life away from her broke through her reserve. In a very strange inexplicable turn, she lowered the pedestal that she created under me, the flat, the car, the career, the people I knew, the actors and directors I’d worked with became inconsequential to her.

“If you’ve gotten yourself into the hobknobs, I’ve got something better,” I said squeezing her hand, and giving her a mischievous wink. I pulled her into the center of the kitchen and then turned around to face her. I hooked my hands under her arms and easily lifted her to sit her on the countertop.

Our many trysts on the surface sprung to mind with the slight lift of the t-shirt along her thigh. All the times we were impatiently passionate in our desire ofr one another…

Clearing my throat to swallow the overwhelming need to feel her under my hands again, to caress every inch of her vitality, remind her or teach her how we were together, I stepped back.

The expectant look she gave me was about invitation enough to take her, claim her as mine, but I wanted to earn it. I promised her that I would seduce her for all the right reasons, and earn her love again.

Huffing a small laugh at my impure thoughts occupying my brain, I reached for the refrigerator to pry open the door. Abby rarely used the thing, so I was safe hiding things in there for her. At one point, I hid a tennis bracelet I bought for her in there for a few days before giving it to her.

“I had Emma go through Covent Garden to collect a few things for me and for you. Your favorite coffee shop-”

“Starbucks!” she exclaimed excitedly, happy that she knew something about herself without prompting.

I laughed. “Yes, the one in Covent Garden. You’ll got out of your way to go there. But you’re also fond of this patisserie-”

“Laduree!” she nearly bellowed out at me. She was winning at the unintentional quiz.

I loved seeing her so energized, talking note to incorporate some of the things she already knew into her studying. The boost of confidence positively encouraged her out of her shell.

“Yes,” I nodded, pulling the box I’d hidden in the bottom of the refrigerator. It was a small, pink glossy box with Laduree’s logo in the center on the top.

Upon seeing it, Abby squealed with delight. “You got me macarons?!” her voice had risen in decibels.

“I did. Apricot is your favorite, so I ordered two of those.”

“So much better than hobknobs…” she said dipping into the box I opened in front of her in offering. As she bit into her treat, she moaned in appreciation. “Scrumptious.”

I chose a chocolate macaron and leaned against the worktop, beside Abby, to watch her.

“Can you take me there? To Laduree?” she asked around a mouthful.

“It’s gone twelve, baby. Maybe when they’re open for business,” I joked evenly.

She shot me a withering look.

Sobering, I conceded, “Whenever you like. We used to go during break at rehearsals. Tea, macarons and a snog in the upstairs alcove.”

“The deep burgundy sofa in the corner?”

I nodded, wondering for the first time if I was the only man she’d ever had a rendezvous with in that alcove.

“I loved that spot – cozy, private, out of the way.”

With an ulterior motive, I teased, “Thought you meant the snogging part.”

Abby’s only response was a slight shrug before turning the conversation back to the macarons.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby’s avoidance of elaborating about her little corner of Laduree bothered me more than I ever wanted to admit. I carried so much doubt about her and her faithfulness to me, so much that it felt like a huge weight upon my chest, a craggily, jaded, century’s old boulder sat there upon my chest. I couldn’t breathe around it, or function without this mass of doubt plaguing my every thought.

Since the car accident more than a fortnight ago, she rarely answered her mobile when a friend called to check on her. I shouldn’t question her loyalty to me if this was any indication, because every day she opened up more and more to me. I recognized her getting better, improving, working around her small hidden drawback, but she didn’t do anything to foster the other relationships she had.

Her friend Juliette’s assigned ringtone,  _Say You’ll Be There_  by the Spice Girls, sounded daily, but Abby didn’t answer. I commented after she hit ignore on the phone the next day, “She’ll only call back again.”

“I know.” Abby turned off the device and placed it just beyond her reach on the coffee table with a throw pillow over it before returning to the oversized chair in her cocoon of blankets. She focused on Northanger Abbey, continuing down her path to Austen overload.

“She cares for you, Abby.”

“I know,” she repeated barely glancing away from her book. Her eyes weren’t focused on the words, her eyes not gliding from side to side when she was really immersed in the Thorpes and the Tilneys. Instead she was all locked up in her head.

“You should talk to her.”

Abby only nodded, hearing me, acknowledging me, but nothing more than that. She curled up with her knees beneath her, cradling her broken wrist as she held her book up as a shield, burying her nose in the open book.

“Abby?”

“I heard you, Tom,” she snapped, her tone harsher than she intended, as she burrowed further into her pink duvet. The statement filled to the brim of more snarky than sassy. The volume and the vigor with which she said it surprised both of us, her more than me.

I couldn’t and wouldn’t get used to the flat tone she used on my name, it still sounded so foreign. It threw my reality into sharp focus, just how much I needed to do to earn her reverence, her softness, her tenderness. “Abby, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in there, why you’re avoiding your friends.” I put my book aside giving her my undivided.

With a heavy sigh, she slammed her book shut with more force than she meant. “I don’t remember, okay? I don’t remember- any of them or where I am with them or what they mean to me.”

“You don’t remember Juliette?”

“I do – but not all of it…” she waved her good hand like she’d been scolded by boiling water as her frustration rising.

“What’s the last thing that you remember?”

Her forehead scrunched a bit until she felt the medical tap crinkle and pull at her skin from the bandage she wouldn’t let me remove yet. Her face went slack again and she said, “Some bloke shoving me out of the way on the tube. My bag – the strap got caught up on the seat. In the rush of people, I got stuck and – I don’t think he meant it or saw me struggle. I hit my head against the railing, left me with an ache for a bit, but not as much as it hurt my pride. I don’t like to look stupid or foolish. I do enough of that on my own, I don’t need some bloke I don’t know helping.”

“Abigail,” I hushed her. She occasionally got down on herself. It had everything to do with her compassion. Abby wasn’t book smart, but she was clever, intuitive. She had a quick wit, her flippancy. My girl knew emotions, feelings, a well of a wide range of the human condition. It’s exactly why she was a gifted actress, a natural. “Education doesn’t determine your worth. There are forces that will always remind us that we’re human and fallible. Nobody will think any less of you.”

“I do!” she protested.

I wasn’t going to change her thinking, and it was an exercise in futility to persuade her otherwise. Putting a pin in that issue, I asked, “Do you remember where you were going or where you were coming from? Any context?” We’d been trying to figure when her last memory was since she’d gotten home from hospital.

“Juliette and I, we had a row.”

“That’s something.”

“I don’t want to talk to her since I don’t know what happened there.”

“Tell me. Maybe I can fill in some blanks for you.”

“She wanted to date my ex-boyfriend,” her voice shook from nerves, from anger, from annoyance? I’m not sure, but this was unchartered territory for Abby and me.

The blow of that term ‘ex-boyfriend’ knocked me in the solar plexus. Abby wasn’t a virgin when I met her, but the very idea of another man touching her made me insane with jealousy. My blood coursed like lead through my veins, my vision tinged with red and a possessive rage rolled through my stomach.

When we first got together, Abby and I were of the moment, living in the present, enjoying the companionship we found together. The nights we spent were fun, with no expectation or stress. Our puns came from the competitive edge that we both had.

When we weren’t coiled around one another in a passionate embrace, we were sitting in my living room, watching movies, throwing popcorn at each other and taking the mickey at every chance presented. The past didn’t matter, finding pleasure in each other and who we were outside of our arrangement had no influence. But Abby let her guard down and showed her true colors, and I showed enough of mine, and we fell in love.

By that point, I’d found out from Juliette by accident about Abby’s tragic past, an orphan, having lost her entire family. Not surprisingly, Abby never spoke of it or avoided the subject of her past and family. Isolated and alone in the world with no friends and family to care for, Abby spoke only in vague terms about her past.

After Henry and admitting that I was jealous of him, Abby was careful about mentioning any previous romantic relationships. I knew she’d had them, but I didn’t want details. I knew what Abby wanted, what she needed. I didn’t need to learn how other men couldn’t love her properly. With amnesia girl Abby, I was on unchartered territory, neither one of us knew boundaries, we had to learn them together.

Sitting forward on the sofa, I had to see past my pride to help Abby. “That happened before we met” I said hollowly, my voice flat and lower than usual.

“Well, that’s what I remember of Juliette. She wanted to date Johnathon.”

Fuck! She gave him a name, and I had one faceless name to focus all my hatred, an unfortunate young man that had the misfortune of meeting Abby before me. As unreasonable and illogical as it was, I hated him.

Irrational – absolutely.

Misguided – undoubtedly.

But I loved Abby, and no man could love her as I could. I’d been burned by previous boyfriends, and there was no denying that they had presence in a woman’s life.

Practicing my calm façade, I said, “She was in the play with us, and you had mended things by rehearsals, no sign of tension between you. You get on with Juliette now, Abby.”

“But I don’t remember that bit, I don’t know how things ended up. I _should_  know that!” she emphasized her point with a small fist punch on her duvet around her shoulders.

I felt almost helpless, but I never suspected a disagreement over a man. “You told me about your girlfriend disagreements, like auditioning for the same roles, she bought a bag that you were saving up for, when you flaked on each other for a coffee date – things like that.”

Abby was watching me closely, like she had been for several minutes, for understanding, for a glass of water, for a cuppa, for learning, for studying – I couldn’t be sure. But her eyes never left me during our conversation, scrutinizing my every move, gesture and facial expression.

Like I carried my doubt, Abby carried shame, in her condition. Her other friendships and relationships were suffering with her amnesia because Abby didn’t feel completely herself. She was reading me as I was reading her and her reluctance in talking with her other friends.

“Maybe,” I suggested. “It’s worth talking to one or two of your friends, Abby. Find out how you fit with them.”

“I don’t want to feel dumb or stupid, I don’t want to be pitied. I get that enough already.” Venom came out in her voice then and I could see her pull into herself, making herself smaller in her little bubble on the chair. She was alluding to her lack of family, so many of her fears and insecurities were tied up in her loss.

“Have a little faith in your friends. They won’t pity you for missing time.” That was the only phrase I could offer that didn’t upset her. Amnesia had become a hated word for her and only helped to frustrate her more. “Invite Juliette or Connie to come by for a short visit. I’ll be here with you, so you know that you have someone on your side. Little bit at a time, yeah?”

I didn’t want to drag out the discussion or isolate her any more than necessary, so I dropped the subject. It would have to be good enough to plant the seed in her head, and let her work through it, like she had with me, like she was still doing with me.

“I don’t think anyone could be as wonderful as you’ve been, Tom. You don’t make me feel stupid,” she said wistfully.

*

A quiet knock came at my door a few minutes after I heard Abby get up for her nightly stroll through my flat.

“Tom?”

She was more comfortable with me, after our long discussion. She recognized how much trust she had put in me, and I hadn’t let her down. Willing to take that chance with friends would come in time, and she loved having my support behind her. The way she was with me differed from the first few days of adjustment.

“You can come in, Abby,” I called towards the door.

My girl tiptoed across the floor after closing the door behind her. “I can’t sleep. Can I stay in here with you?”

I turned the bed clothes down for her to crawl in, inviting her in without a word. When she was comfortable and situated in the bed, I covered her again with the duvet. She didn’t tremble or show any signs of nervousness in the dark. Her breathing was normal, her position more natural than ever before.

I was finding it harder and harder to keep my hands to myself around her. The more time I spent with her, the more I care for her. The more I cared for her, the more I desired her. I wouldn’t give in to the longing unless I got a signal from her that it was welcome, that she was ready to take that step. The signs had to come from her. It was a race for the finish line, if I’d go mad waiting for her to give me the yes sign I was looking for or if she would offer me the opportunity to be with her again.

“There’s something missing – in your bedroom, there’s something missing and I can’t sleep without it,” she said seriously, her tone even. She wasn’t blaming me, sounding more confused than upset.

“What’s missing, baby?”

“I… dunno.”

“We’ll find it in the morning, together. I’ll fix it so you can sleep.”

Dr. Sherpada had said that the insomnia was normal after a head injury and it would work itself out. I thought it was her mind wondering, searching and dealing with her missing time and memories, something to make her whole again.

“Tom?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Would you hold me again?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask.” I curled around her, warding off her missing pieces and protecting her from the evil words that plagued her: amnesia and insomnia.

It tested my endurance as the gentleman, but I would walk through fire for her.

And she slept, she found her resting spot, with me, against me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tom, I’ve done what I can,” Richard Eyre explained over the phone. “I’m afraid I need you back on set.” After the pleasantries and the niceties of asking after each other, my current director cut right to the point of his call. He was nothing, if not direct and to the point, with no frills, and it made him a precise and effective director

“I understand.”

“How is she? How’s your girlfriend?” he asked politely.

“Thanks, she’s getting better. She’s missing a chunk of her life to amnesia and her career to her injuries,” I said sympathetically. “All she’s got is me right now.”

The authoritative gruff voice said, “I’ve rescheduled the shoot as much as possible. The absolutely latest I can get you back on set is Monday.” I had about 80 hours left of work to complete on The Hollow Crown. “I know you needed the time to care for your girl, but I can’t push it anymore without extending. The BBC isn’t willing to stretch the budget that far.”

“No, no…  I understand that. I’ll be back on Monday. I can’t extend beyond the original photography date, I have another contract to fulfill.” I swiped through the calendar on my iPad to see the Avengers Assemble junket the second week of April, right on the heels of the filming schedule I had for the BBC. I loved the fast paced work environment I’d created for myself, but it didn’t leave a lot of time for emergencies.  

“I’m sorry, Tom. I wish I could give you more time to care for her, it’s a tough situation.”

“Absolutely nothing to apologize for, Richard. Everybody in the cast and crew has made every concession for me, and I look forward to bringing my gratitude into energy back into the production. I’m so proud to be amongst such professionals, and this has been an enormous honor to be in this series.”

“I wish you the best of luck with your girl. And I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday,” I said quickly with another thanks thrown in before the line went dead.

The truth of it was I was anxious to get back on set. This role, Prince Hal to King Henry (only shot in reverse), was the reason I became an actor. Shakespeare became a driving force, combining my love of literature and theatre into one, in my life and The Hollow Crown has become my pinnacle. I’d never worked harder on anything else in my life as I had with this. The material was challenging and vast, every actor’s dream.

I considered bringing Abby to the set, possibly have her work as an extra at Quickly’s tavern, but no insurance policy or union would allow her to work with a broken wrist, too much liability tied up in that. It was the very reason she couldn’t return to her theatre job until she was healed, aside from her amnesia. I’d have to figure out something out to either bring her along to stay in my trailer or have Luke or Emma stop by and check on her occasionally during the day if I left her in my flat. She’d be fine on her own, for the most part, but I didn’t want her to feel lonely or neglected either. Twelve hour shooting days were long, and I didn’t want her to feel alone at all.

Closing my iPad, I set it aside on my desk as I stood from my chair. I walked from my office into the living room to find Abby, sitting on the floor, using the coffee table as a desk. She had her palm propped up to hold up her head. The memory cards were spread out evenly on the wooden surface in a four by four square. Methodically she flipped over one card, studied the shape before placing it back facedown. She started at the top left corner working her way through each card like she was reading a book.

Impressively, she got two pairs right off, leaving four blank squares in her playing field. The third attempt to make a pair messed her confidence when they didn’t match. She sighed, flipping them both back over facedown.

Announcing my presence, I said, “I though the circle was in the top righthand corner.” I approached her as she glanced over her shoulder.

“That’s the star.”

“You sure? Check it,” I said, sitting behind her on the sofa to watch over her brain exercise.

The broken wrist hand flipped that card over and it was the star as she said it was. Back over her shoulder, she teased, “Maybe you need this game more than me.”

I’d done it to boost her confidence back up, happy that it worked. When she tried the memory game, she always remembered the corners, but everything in the middle became a blur of shapes and colors.

I smiled at her quick wit, “I’ll get the next go.”

“Are you challenging me? I think you’d embarrass me horribly in speed,” she replied, starting back on her practice.

_Cruelly my mind flashed back to the first time Abby hid my watch from me so I couldn’t go for a run. She told me later that she hadn’t hidden it that time, but gave her the idea to hijack it when she needed attention. The reason she hid my watch was always for the same reason: she wanted sex._

_Breathless from her first orgasm, she’d whispered, “You’re no minuteman, Hiddleston. Never have been.”_

_My cock had been buried deep in her body, her head, her scorching wetness sheathing every inch of me. Her passion for me clear in the way her knees locked my hips in place, her arms held me tightly to her, all my weight pressing her into cushions of the very sofa I sat upon now._

The powerful memory hit me full force, my jeans grew tighter as the blood rushed to my cock. I sat back, schooling my brain to override my body’s treacherous sexual frustration. I was at the better part of three weeks since I’d been intimate with Abby, and longest I’d gone without her since July. I was dying to touch her, to hear my name in the heat of passion, the utterance and sounds only Abby could make, feel her love, her energy, her enthusiasm.

I was on edge, my libido screaming at me to find relief, to find release, with the woman I loved so dearly. She was right in front of me. I could smell her peach scent.

I forced myself off this forbidden line of thinking before she became aware of the erection she’d unwittingly caused. A silly throw-away comment about time had me wound tighter than a jack in the box ready to spring. “Abby,” my voice sounded husky and raw. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Abby, I’m going to make dinner, yeah?”

She nodded, still concentrating on her cards.

Grazing her hair with my hand in my affectionate way, I excused myself to the kitchen to redirect my concentration on food instead of my neglected desire.

“I know enough to stay clear of this room,” Abby’s flirty voice spoke from behind me at the doorway of the kitchen a few minutes later. She was an absolute vision in my blue workout t-shirt, almost back to her former self. The bruises were fading, and she stood with more confidence than I’d seen since I got her to my flat. She still wore the big bandage on her head because she didn’t want to ditch it yet. Maybe as a sign that she still wasn’t healed completely without her memories, I wasn’t sure. I let her have her crutch. “Especially when you’re cooking.”

It had been a few days since she hid her phone under the throw pillow in the living room. She left it under the pillow for a full day, and then moved it from room to room with her after our talk, keeping it turned off, getting used to the idea of communicating with others. She’d been coming to me at night, sleeping in the guest bedroom with me when insomnia struck. Abby was blaming my bedroom still as the reason for her insomnia, but as soon as she came to me, she’d fall asleep.

We searched each morning for the reason the room caused her insomnia, checking that the windows were closed, the curtains weren’t torn to let in light, the digital clock was turned off so it didn’t show red in the dark, all the pillows and blankets were on the bed. Nothing seemed wrong, and I didn’t mind her coming to me.

I laughed as I motioned for her to come in. “Finished your game?” I was cooking loaded light baked potato soup for our supper, so she couldn’t hurt much if I kept her out of the way. I hooked my hands under her arms and prop her up on the countertop away from the stovetop. “You alright? Just there?”

Taking stock of her wrist, she smiled around a bite over her lower lip and gave me an enthusiastic nod, meeting my gaze.

“You sit there, beautiful. I know you’re safe out of the way,” I instructed with a teasing wink. “I’ll finish making dinner.” I turned back to the opposite counter, loving that she wanted to be close. I have several pans of steaming vegetables going, and the potatoes baking in the oven.

“I think we can – I can – the bandage, I don’t need it,” she stammered feverishly, her thoughts running faster than her mouth.

I went back to her, curious the reason for her change of heart.

“Will you – can – will you”

“You want me to take it off for you,” I stated for her to which she nodded. Carefully, I peeled back the medical tape and discarded the used gauze. I touched her healing wound tenderly checking the skin there for any long term damage. The skin showed the slightest hint that there had been an open injury, with a red jagged line. The bump was still there, but receding almost daily.

I looked into her eyes. “How’re you feeling? You’re good?”

She nodded, and I ran my hand down her hair in my way. I stepped away to check the oven and the time left for cooking.

“What are you feeding me?” she asked with her sassy flare.

“Food, you little minx.”

“So specific… for an intelligent bloke,” she coyly intoned.                                      

Abandoning the dinner prep, I closed in on the cheeky, giggling woman. I crossed my arms over my chest and advanced on her, giving her the sternest face I could muster around laughter.

Abby held up her good hand as a shield, and comically called out, “But I’m defenseless.”

I reached for her and she all but doubled over before my fingers made contact with her waist to tickle her. She didn’t cower or shy away from our teasing or my proximity. She was bubbly, happy and her excitable self, pretending to wrestle against my tickling fingers. Her breath came in deep pants in between bouts of giggling. It felt so good to see her happy, alive and back in good spirits. I enjoyed laughing with her again, but more than that, seeing her with color in her face and her spunky personality made my heart pound and my blood race.

“Unfair advantage!” she squealed before her giggles overcame her again. A few gasps for air and then the laughter consumed her again. “Unfair… advan… tage, Hiddleston!”

The impact of hearing my surname tumble from her lips caught me completely and utterly by surprise. Gobsmacked, my fingers halted in the assault of tickling. The change in me took her by surprise too, her tittering laugh fading as she breathed heavily from the onslaught. Her blue eyes searched my face for a clue.

“Say it again,” I ordered.

Abby blinked once and said, “Unfair advantage?”

Huffing a laugh, I shook my head. “My name.” At the same moment I softened the command by caressing my hand down her hair again. I’d missed her so much and she was on her way back to me.

Meeting my gaze and reading my visceral response, she repeated, “Hiddleston.”

And there she was! My girl. Her saucy personality.

I coached myself not to kiss her, not to stare at her lips, not to push her in that direction. I invested the time, worked to get the girl to trust me, so I had to be patient a bit longer. But how I wanted her, so very much wanted her.

Abby dared a glance towards my mouth and licked her lower lip, moistening her skin. She was considering the possibility too. She wanted me.

The rigid stress of the past three weeks released from my body, and my entire being relaxed with it. All the tension gone with the syllables of my name on her lips. My hands moved of their own accord from where they landed on her waist up to hold her cheeks gently, turning her face up to mine. Hoarsely, I ordered her to say it again, “Say it, Abby.”

Without truly understanding, she repeated it. She didn’t need to comprehend the joy and pleasure that I got from hearing my name from her. She witnessed my response and how much it meant to me, and that was enough for her.

“Again.”

She did while moving her good hand to my shoulder.

I stepped in closer and demanded it of her again.

This time, she uttered, “Thomas!”

The man powerfully and wholly in love with her wanted to weep happy, relieved tears. Instead I pressed my lips into hers for the first time – again. All the longing and the pining for the girl she was and wasn’t I poured over her, and she gladly accepted. I felt her injured arm hook around my neck, the hard surface at the top of my spine, pulling me closer to her. I went, eagerly, blindly, needing to take her.

Tilting my head, I licked her lower lip, begging access to more of her, all of her, whatever she allowed. Beautifully responsive as she’d always been granted me the privilege of kissing her thoroughly.

Her tongue found mind, and found me, the man fighting to get the woman he loved back in his arms. There she was, tasting of life and smiles and my Abigail.

I pulled out of the kiss long enough to whisper her name urgently, before I took possession of her mouth again. She answered with just as much fervor and passion, holding me to her with all her might.

I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her body into mine, pressing her softness into me. Her breasts against the wall of my chest was one of the most erotic sensations, and how I craved it after this many weeks. Abby was all too eager to comply, expressing the well of emotion that she’d developed for me.

She had no idea the kind of power she had over me. I would crawl to the ends of the Earth and back for her if she asked it of me.

She pulled away, breaking the kiss, showing the slightest hesitation, so I stopped. I forced myself to step back to put some space between us, to control the lust pumping through me.

Abby’s good hand lifted to cover her red swollen lips with just her fingers, avoiding the anxious worried gaze I gave her. Not knowing what else to do, I apologized, “Abby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.”

She shook her head vehemently and from behind her fingers I heard her small voice. “I liked it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Abigail,” I growled as the raw masculine energy took over my patience. She had been kissing me back, returning the affection with as much fervor as I gave to her. I initiated the kiss against my better judgment, but she’d given it her all. I felt her respond to me.

I closed the gap between us again, tipping her head back to look at me. Her fingers traced her lips where I’d been, but the haunted look in her eyes concerned me. Guilt? Regret? Her eyes, the perfect blend of innocence and wisdom, youthful purity and experienced heartbreak, searched mine. Bewildered she breathed, “You really do love me. I f-f-felt… it… in your kiss. I’m- I never felt that before.”

I smiled down into her face, brushing back her hair feeling lighter and freer than I had since the accident. Tracing the outline of her lips with my thumb, thankful that she was with me, alive and healing. “I could do it again.”

She responded with a grin, wrapping her good arm around my neck to bring me into another kiss.

Kissing her, I was refreshed. All the patience I’d expended on caring for her felt worth it as I pulled her against me. My hands landed on her bum and inched her toward the edge of the countertop so she could feel all of me and my body’s response to her. I couldn’t hide the bulge in my trousers, and I wanted her to know that I desired her. I kissed her long and hard, until the timer for the oven chimed for me.

Groaning, I tore my lips from her to turn the damned thing off and return to the food for my girl. She giggled happily, commenting, “Saved by the bell, Hiddleston.”

“Did you mean me or you?” I gave her a wink and went to work on fixing the rest of dinner. I was delighted that Abby didn’t hop down and disappear back into the living room. She stayed where I sat her, her legs dangling down off the worktop, the t-shirt riding up along her thighs when she kicked at random.

We bantered back and forth until dinner was ready. I honestly felt like I’d gotten my Abby back. She said my name with the reverence and feeling that I’d missed since the accident. Her energy had returned and she didn’t seem shy.

After dinner, Abby sauntered out of the kitchen into the living room to wait for me to cleanup and set up a movie to pass the time before bed. Her hips swayed as she stepped from one foot to the other, the cotton fabric of my t-shirt she wore clung to the curve of her luscious rear. Her legs…

I bit the inside of my cheek and forced my attention back to loading the dishwasher and wiping down the countertops. Out of habit I added some items to the grocery list on the fridge, all my thoughts centered on Abby.

Her lips fused with mine.

Her tongue against mine.

Her hand tangled in my curls.

Her knees framed my hips.

Her body pressed against mine.

She was so eager for my touch, bending and bowing to get to more of me as I did for her. I’d managed to calm my erection after our kiss, but my mind and my need for her couldn’t be quieted. I wanted to excuse myself to take a cold shower or take matters into my own hands. The possessive alpha male and the baser aspects of my personality might override my patient nature. I knew too well the relief her body could bring me. But I couldn’t…

I could easily take and win Abby for the moment, but I wanted her for always.

That’s where I was caught. I hadn’t earned her yet. I was closer. Her kiss tasted of a promise of more.

With the evening chores done and my work stowed away for the next day, I landed on the sofa next to my girl. She’d set aside all her readings and puzzles to solve to wait for me, surrounded by her pillows and pink duvet. My blue one, folded neatly in a square, set on the back of the sofa for easy retrieval, brought from my bedroom by smiling Abby.

Abby’s eyes followed my every movement, from my entrance into the room to when I lowered myself comfortably into a seated position. The gaze was full of pure expectancy, wonderment and awe, and how I wanted her. “Come here, baby,” I indicated with the fingers of both hands in an exaggerated, over the top come hither motion.

She untangled from her fort of safety, shedding all of it like a second skin to sit beside me, tucked up under my arm which was hung over the cushions, awaiting her. Abby rested her head against my shoulder, falling into her habit, how she slept with her head under my chin. Her faint peach smell wafted up to my nose, and I shifted ever so slightly to quell my body’s quick response to her.

I kissed the crown of her head, squeezing her close. I spoke quietly into her hair, “Baby, I’ve got filming to finish for the BBC – Monday. I don’t want to leave you alone if you’re not ready.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, putting her arm around my waist, her clinginess returning. There was an energetic tenderness in the way her fingers touched my side. Her electricity flowed, her internal dimmer switched elevated after she had tasted, experienced and liked my kiss.

“It’s your decision. I can bring you and all your accessories,” huffing a small laugh. I waved my hand around the coffee table strewn with her books, notebooks, card games, all the things that were helping her build her concentration and focus. She’d even discarded a script that I was reading and considering for a possible future role, when she got bored with it. It hung off the edge the coffee table when her patience wore out, no doubt one of the pages dog-eared since bookmarks alluded her. “But I think it might be dreadfully boring for you to sit in my trailer for hours.”

Softly she said, “I could stay here.” She blended the statement with a question,

“Of course you can. I just didn’t want you to feel alone.”

“Your mobile?”

“I’ll bring it to set, but I can’t carry it while in costume. Shakespeare didn’t have them… no playing it off like a prop.”

Abby actually poked me in the ribcage for ribbing her mercilessly. “Hiddleston…”

“I can find some people to stop in to check in on you if you want, Emma or Luke, one of your friends… Twelve to fourteen hours, I’ll be away – it’s a long time to be alone, especially while you’re recuperating.” I felt her wiggle against me, getting more comfortable, pressing in. “I know how bored you get.”

“Here I thought you liked me,” I could hear the eye roll in her voice. The mocking tone warmed me, as she grew enough to know that I could take it.

I made her look up at me by leaning my head as far over. “I adore you, you little minx. Don’t decide now. We’ve got an appointment to see the doctor, see how you’re getting on…”

“Did I grow another nose?”

Chuckling, I replied, “No, but he’s going to see what we can do about that mouth.”

She sat up quickly, grabbed a pillow and hit me full on in the belly with it. Shooing me away, she said, “Go put on a disc before I remove your nose, Hiddleston.”

As I pushed to my feet to do her bidding, I reveling in this lightness, her humor, in the way we talked. I was laughing with her, and it just felt good. I missed her so much while I waited for her to return to herself. She was so close.

“You’re not making me watch stuff I don’t like because you do and I don’t remember that I don’t like it…” she gave a teasing sideways look from her spot on the sofa. She was cocooning herself back into her nest of her duvet and pillows.

I continued laughing into the DVD player when I heard her sassy little verbal aerobics from behind me as I dropped a movie into the drive.

Firing back, I asked, “Would I do that to you?”

“I don’t remember,” she answered with perfect Abby timing, sticking her tongue out at me.

She was flirting with me again, like she had in the past. She flourished with all my attention focused on her getting better, every affection, every ‘date’ on her. Movie nights, when we both put aside business or brain exercises or learning or scripts, had become my chance to woo her. I became her pillar of support during the day and her friend at night. I was by her side, helping her learn, rewarding her triumphs, picking her spirits back up when she got frustrated, taking care of her when she needed help.

I vowed as I reclaimed my seat beside her, “You’ll like this one.” Mentally, I set my next goal, one I’d set for myself, getting her to call me her beautiful man again.

“Prove it.”

This game had started the first day I got her back to my flat, testing and quizzing me about what I knew about her. Sampling the waters of our relationship, toe by toe, inch by inch, she needed to know how much I knew about her.

A winning grin spread across my face, “It’s Pride and Prejudice, Abby.”

“That’s not enough,” pointing to one of the books on the table including the Jane Austen kick she’d been on.

“Darcy is your Matthew MacFayden.”

She froze in response, her wide eyes transfixed on me. “You know about that one?” each word spoken slowly as it were its own separate thought.

I caressed my forefinger down the slope of her nose. “You think you’re subtle, but you give it away each and every time. This one,” I gestured towards the telly and the DVD menu going round and round. “He’s a little older but he’s from Great Yarmouth, like you. So he’s a good match, yes?”

Silence and a shocked expression.

“I’ll make this clear for you, baby,” I told her smugly, giving her my most confident declaration. “He’s Abby World, but he can’t have you in this world. You’re mine.”

Her stunned expression slowly melted into a sultry smile, her eyes darkening with something else entirely… gratitude, desire, attraction, a beautiful combination of all three. She extricated herself from her nest and crawled across short distance between us, minding her broken wrist.

When she was only a few scant inches from my face, she took a pregnant pause, searched my face for sincerity, for truth, for something more. I held my breath while I waited for her determination, to shove her sass back at me or to embrace my claim over her. She studied my lips for a long time, the internal debate playing with the corners of her mouth, indenting, relaxing, curling up, then down, before returning to a straight line.

Finally, closing her eyes, Abby leaned into me and brushed her lips against mine, a soft touch. There was another breath before she did it again, with more certainty. I couldn’t stop or refrain from returning the sentiment. I buried my hand deep into her hair at the back of her head, bringing her into my kiss and taking control. The patient man had been tested to his limits, and his salvation was her kiss.

I adored her and I couldn’t hide it or curtail it any more. She fell into the kiss, passing me the command, following my lead. Her lips parted inviting me in and I rushed in like a starving man at a feast of the gods. In kissing Abby, she let go of all her reservations with me.

My affectionate, desperately tactile Abigail moved back into my flat. She held my hand for the duration of a movie we put on the telly, I honestly couldn’t say if I’d watched a minute of it. I was distracted by the kiss she landed on me, and I felt as giddy as a schoolboy, wondering how his girl crush felt about him. With her hand in mine, I knew her need to be touched was returning.

This version of Abby was difficult to read, precisely because she didn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve. I suspected that she was sorting out what she felt about her situation, about her life and about me. She fancied me a bit, her smiles just for me had returned, she felt at ease enough to tease, the special inflection she used on my name and she kissed me like she meant it.

We didn’t kiss for long. If she hadn’t pulled away or put up a definitive stop sign before me, I would’ve kept on, my mouth demonstrating just how deeply I felt for her. Words didn’t mean as much to her as they did me. When she finally broke the sensual meld of our lips, she covered my mouth with her fingertips again.

She was staring down again at the floor, but her focus was on the thought in her head. Reasoning, harmonizing, squaring things off in her head, “That thing you said… in hospital…”

I furrowed my brow, concerned that she was hurting again or losing some of the ground that she’d gained since. “What is it, Abby? What did I say?”

“That I never… complained – bout kissing you. That I fancied it…”

“Yes?”

“That’s true.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the movie ended, I reached for the remote to turn off everything for the night, but Abby wouldn’t release my hand. Looking back over my shoulder, I smirked, “This is a lot easier with the use of both my hands, love.”

Her expression was a blend of pensive, anxious and uncertainty, her quiet coming from her thoughts and fears. “I want to tell you something.”

I muted the telly and sat back, gladly giving my beautiful Abigail my undivided. “Tell me something.”

She avoided my eyes focused on her, instead watching her fingers trace the veins, knuckles and skin of my hand. “I think… you should… sleep in your bedroom.” Abby didn’t tell me everything that went into her ‘something’. I had some work to do to figure where her mind had wondered over the course of an hour while we watched her MacFayden do his Darcy thing. All through I thought she was paying attention to and living her MacFayden Abby World. The thrill of knowing that she had been thinking of me was unimaginably flattering.

“I created a safe place for you, love, in my bedroom. I’m alright in the guestroom.” I’d given her free reign and sanctuary within my bedroom, a place I didn’t go unless she specifically asked me in, to find what kept her awake at night or to help change her sheets or slip her into one of my jumpers when she got chilled, her cast making some menial tasks too cumbersome to do alone.

“I know, and that’s been very generous, beyond sweet… but you’ll be starting work again. You’ll sleep better in your own bed.” She wasn’t telling me everything. I could tell in her wandering fingers along my hand and arm. She liked touching, but the movement was removed from her words and her tone.

“I can sleep anywhere, but if you want me there- And where will you sleep?”

Switching tactics from the unobtrusive shy girl, she lifted her gaze on me and said, “Beside you.” It was the admission that overcame all her fears at once. “I know now, what’s been missing.” The delivery made it clear that I was her missing element, the missing piece that made her restless and unable to sleep at night. I was her balm, the calm to block out everything else, her fidgety mind searching for the blank pieces of a puzzle.

“Baby,” I uttered for lack of a better response. For the first time in our history, I was incapable of speech. In no way was I prepared for her to admit that she liked me so soon, to say it almost freely. Originally, when we first got together, it took months and too many arguments, but she seemed comforted in my affection for her.

I told her honestly each day that I loved her. In this environment, she felt safe and loved, a far more effective approach to earning her trust and her love in return than the way I treated her when we first got together. How did I ever get this woman to fall in love with me the first time around? In that moment, I wanted so much to ask.

But I couldn’t.

I wanted to smother her in kisses and caresses and sweet nothings, but there was still more in her confession. The guarded truth was just there. She was offering me more of her, but not all of her, not yet. One step closer, it may not be a huge victory, but I’d take it as such.

“I didn’t want to take my bandage off because it gave me reason for you to touch me twice a day every day. With you, I feel like this… I dunno, like some precious jewel but not like I’m fragile.”

“Abby, I’ll touch you whenever you want, whenever you need me. You don’t need an excuse or reason for it.” I bit my tongue before I qualified it further with where or how. This wasn’t about my sexual gratification or hers. Abby was finding her way through the dark confusion of her mind and into her ‘future’ self, so to speak, becoming the girl she was before the accident. Self-discovery was difficult, certainly came with its own set of hills and valleys to overcome, possibly more complicated when others knew more about her than she did.

Her expression fell a bit, and the apprehension crept in again. “Tom, I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what you’ve done for me or if I’ll ever be able to repay it—“

I stopped her lips with a small kiss, a reminder that I cared but an effective pleasurable avenue to stop her from saying silly things. “Abby, my beautiful minx, no repayment necessary,” I said watching her little smile return. “You would do no less for someone you care for, and you’d do it without a thought of repayment or compensation.”

She physically relaxed a bit before my eyes, the tension she’d built up with the worry in her head and shoulders releasing, her body slouching in the relief of it. Slowly her hesitant smile grew, pulling at her lips, “Ours – this relationship – I’m still working my head around it. I know – well, former me, I mean… and I know - that I… jump… into  _things_. This is… I mean, that this…” she trailed off as her smile faded.

“You’re not ready to jump,” I added, reading her hand gestures flying between the space between us.

She leveled her eyes on me again and nodded.

“That’s okay, love. Abby, when I told you that you’d fall in love with me again, there’s no pressure to make that happen straight away. No time line. No expectancy for you to reclaim your relationship with me. How could I expect that, love? I can’t even take you out for a proper date until the doctor says you can travel by car or by underground.”

“I do fancy you, Tom.”

“Leave it at that,” I told her, needing to hold on to the audio caress to carry me through until she was truly back in my arms. The kisses were an excellent sign, that she liked them and that she liked me.

She took a breath, erasing the ‘but’ that was left unsaid. “I feel like…” she shook her head, shaking off that thought. “If you want to seduce me and win me for the right reasons, I want to give you that without falling into the same pattern I have before.” Her hand splayed over my heart, lightly touching my chest. “I don’t remember myself and a huge piece of my life. I don’t feel I can commit to you until—“

My personal fear popped in at the most inopportune time. “Is there someone else? Do you have lingering feelings for your ex?” I cursed myself inwardly, hating these doubts and suspicions and my gut reaction that every woman I would ever love strayed, utter fucking madness.

Studying my face, she simply shook her head. She looked as if she was trying to read my thoughts, my personal make-up and all the idiosyncrasies that came together to make me. It was unnerving. Could she see the craggily boulder sitting on my chest?

“No,” she said frankly. “If you’re asking about my row with Juliette, I didn’t want her to date my ex because he’s a terrible human being, beyond the reach of second chances or redemption.”

“The row, it wasn’t a case of it you couldn’t have him, no one can?”

Abby scrunched her face in a sneer of disgust. “Hardly. A case of: I wouldn’t wish him on the human race, let alone kissing my friend and pretending he had a soul. I didn’t want Juliette to suffer the painful truth like I did.” She swiveled towards me and as further explanation, said “Juliette sees everything through rose colored glasses. It’s exactly why I love her and I didn’t – I don’t – didn’t want to lose her optimism in my life. She makes me happy with her upbeat attitude.”

The injured girl gingerly lifted her plaster cast and touched my knee with her fingers. “The approach I used, all wrong, so selfish, but coming from the right place. But Juliette, she… well, she didn’t take too kindly to my meddling. I was so… mad that she was considering it.”

She halted, taking in my expression. Some of my own feelings must’ve registered for her, judging by her switch, “That was so long ago. I can’t explain how I know that, but it  _feels_  like ancient history. I remember that argument and I remember leaving, but I don’t remember much else after that. I somehow just know it was long ago.”

Scooting closer to me, she touched her fingertips along my lips and spoke addressing them instead of my eyes. “I’m not good at dating, I’m not very good at meeting people. Mostly, I’m the girl that ends up the friend… so I don’t think there’s anyone else in the picture, Tom. I’m not leaving a candle in the window or tying ribbons or pining for someone or wondering ‘what if’ or ‘what happened’.” Chancing another look directly in my eyes, she lowered her voice, “Tom, being with you, here with you, feels right. I don’t know why, I can’t explain what I do and don’t remember or the feelings associated with certain things or events. But I know that I’m with you for a reason.”

I opened my mouth to say something, apologize, ask her more questions, thank her, but the words died on my lips. I wasn’t quite sure what to say, what to address first. If it were possible to be any more enchanted with her, I would float away on a bubble with it. I admired her bravery for facing what she feared, what she hated, to comfort me without knowing she had.

“I’m not ready to jump with you, but I want to,” she smiled. “We may not be able to go out into the world for dating, but I want to keep seeing you. There’s not a lot of romance in plaster casts and gauze pads and pain meds, but you’ve charmed me, Hiddleston.”

After essentially applying the brakes to the speeding acceleration of our relationship, my woman took my hand and led me beyond the guest bedroom to the master suite. Unknowingly, my girlfriend caused the night of very little sleep and too many flashes of memory of her sighing my name, coming undone in my arms, and our whispered words of love and passion echoing in my head. After a fitful night of sexual frustration and hours of my cock harder than naming all the countries in Asia in alphabetical order, I still wouldn’t have changed a moment of it. She slept through the night with no wandering.

*

“Abigail,” the doctor breezed in through the door examining her chart rather than addressing her. “How are you feeling?”

Abby clutched my hand in hers and I felt her shaking with anxiety. She was seated on the examining table with me standing beside her. Her mood this morning had been somber, anticipating the prognosis on her health. Her voice wavered as she told him, “I’m fine, Dr. Sherpada, thanks.” She glanced up at me for confirmation and support.  

Squeezing her hand in solidarity, I merely nodded that she was okay and there was nothing to worry about.

“Let’s take a look at your head wound first, then I can take you for x-rays on your wrist. Alright?”

Abby silently nodded, withdrawing her hand from mine to move her fringe for the doctor.

Dr. Sherpada examined the site of the wound, still pronounced by a noticeable bump, but the abrasion itself had mostly healed. He measured the raised skin on her forehead with his thumbs. Gently pressing, he monitored Abby’s sensitivity to the slightest pressure.

Instinctively, I placed my hand at the small of her back when she winced, more from nerves than actual pain. Abby needed the grounding comfort with the doctor’s focus centered on her.

“Does this still pain you, Abby?” the doctor inquired, lingering over her injury.

“Only when you poke at it,” she said softly. “Will the lump go away?”

“In time. The localized residual pain is normal. The wound itself has healed nicely, no scarring. We’ll keep check on your lump, but it could take up to six to eight weeks before you see significant improvement.”

“Is there anything we should be doing to reduce it?” I asked as her caregiver.

He suggested a number of options including both hot and warm compresses to treat the lump. The doctor made notes in her chart as he commented, “Everything here looks to be healing as it should. How’s the memory?”

“Spotty. I get flashes of things – like moments and feelings,” she said, taking my hand again. “I remembered a green dress, but I don’t… can’t… there’s no setting.”

“That’s an excellent sign, Abby. We can hope that the flashes will become more frequent, and longer, until you’ve recovered all your memories. You’ve healed rather quickly. I expect a full recovery actually. Head injuries, such as yours, showing the amount of improvement you have can usually indicate full functionality.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, hearing it from the doctor himself. “How long does that take? If she regains her memories, when–?”

“I can’t say specifically, sir. We’ll schedule another examine at six weeks, and see how she’s doing.” He looked from me back to the patient, “Abby, do you have any questions for me before I take you for x-rays?”

*

“How goes it there, mate? Need anything?”

“Luke, thanks, man. I may need to call in a favor or two soon. I’m back on set tomorrow,” I said into my mobile as I took a load off in my office.

“And Abby? How is she?” Big brother Luke always sounded more concerned for Abby now, more than he ever felt for me.

“Had an appointment at hospital with the doctor the day before yesterday. The abrasion on her head is gone, but the bump is still there. They sawed off her cast to take x-rays of her wrist and recast her. At least another month with that thing, but the doctor said she wouldn’t need surgery and the bones are setting back nicely.”

“And what about her memories?”

“She gets to a certain point and everything after is lost. She said that she gets flashes of things and feelings about others, but nothing substantial to go on.”

“And what did the doctor say about the flashes? Is that normal?”

“He said that it was difficult to make a prognosis. He was encouraged by it and the quick healing. He mentioned that usually most improvements with amnesia patients happen between one and six weeks after the injury.”

Luke was already tinkering around on his laptop, multi-tasking as only he could do. “We’ve half way through, so there’s still time. Did you ask him about allowing her to travel?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did. For now, no tube. Cars are okay for short journeys, whatever she feels comfortable doing. He didn’t want to clear her for flying until the next check-up.”

“When’s that?” The telltale sounds of fingers typing on a keyboard floated through the phone, Luke already angling and working every contingency, every scenario.

I flipped open my mac to go over scheduling with my publicist, the original order of business for the phone call before I went back to my girl and our plans for the night. “Three weeks at the six week mark.”

“That’s cutting it short for the junket, but I’ve got some things mocked up. I’ll email ‘em.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Missed you at the BAFTAs, Luke filled me in,” Benedict stood on my flat’s doorway waving his fingers. “What with the car accident and everything. How’s your girl?” he jutted his chin over my shoulder.

Out of sight, out of mind, but reality delivered my best mate on my doorstep with three bags of takeaway from the closest Indian restaurant and a bouquet of flowers. I’d been so focused on Abby’s wellbeing, getting her back on an even schedule and returning to work that I’d forgotten to return several of Ben’s calls. Pleasant surprise brightened my face as I one arm hugged my best mate, “Ben! Hey, mate!”

“I came to pay my respects,” he said following my gesture of invitation to enter my flat.

“She isn’t dead, Ben.”

“You’re still seeing her. That’s worth some amount of sympathy.”

My best friend and my girlfriend never got on and neither one of them let me forget it either. I led Ben through the foyer and the hallway into the kitchen to serve dinner. “I owe you an apology, Ben.”

“And about fifteen phone calls, five texts and an email,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, had every intention. It’s been arse over tit with Abby hurt. She needed my—“

Placing the bags on the countertop, Ben offered me a sympathetic head tilt that came off as really sincere. “Tom, man, you can call me if you need anything. Abby may not be my cuppa, but you’re golden, darling.”

I clapped my hand on his shoulder affectionately, “Thanks.” I pointed out plates and glasses for wine in the overhead cupboards for Ben to start setting out dinner. “You caught us just as we got in actually. I was back on set today for the Hollow Crown, took Abby with me.”

“I was keeping tabs on you through Luke,” digging through the wine fridge for a bottle of something to go with Indian.

Sorting enough silverware out of the drawer, I called through to my bedroom, “Abby! We have company!”

Benedict made small talk while milling around the kitchen and the table, laying out an impromptu meal. Abby came through from the bedroom, a few minutes later, in nothing but my grey t-shirt on. With one look at Ben, she squeaked and ran back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Ben erupted and exploded into a fit of laughter, halting the dinner prep right in the middle.

Addressing the shaking back of my best mate, I scolded him, “Please attempt to get on with her this time. She’s very sensitive with all that’s going on.” All I got in response was a wave of his hand and a nod through more laughter.

I followed my girlfriend to the closed bedroom door and knocked softly, “Abby? Love? Alright?”

“I’m… I’m… I’m fine…”

“May I come in, love?”

“I… wasn’t expecting…”

She sounded a little rattled by the intrusion. My flat became her safe zone and Ben’s sudden appearance had thrown off her equilibrium and knocked her confidence. Being with me at the studio all day kept her mostly quiet and subdued in my trailer, only talking to me during the small breaks, too self-conscious of her little bouts of confusion to talk to anyone else.

“Abby, let me in, love.” My touch would calm her, as long as we were on the same side of the door. Slowly almost silently the door opened and Abby stood in the gap, anxiously glancing behind me for another sign of our guest.

I angled myself in through the gap and closed the door behind me, securing Abby behind a safety barrier. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t know he was coming. He came to see how you are.”

“Do I know him?” He voice was at a higher pitch than usual.

“Yes, you’ve met my best mate a few times. He came to see our show, I introduced you.”

“I’m sure I was wearing more clothing then,” she said yanking the hem of my t-shirt. “Though I don’t remember.” Her voice dropped in embarrassment at not remembering Ben.

Stroking her hair in my signature sign of affection, I coaxed her into my arms for a comforting hug. She shivered slightly, but quickly settled into her spot against me.

“I’m so sorry, baby. He’s only stay for dinner.” I kissed her hair. “He brought some of your favorite. Then, I promise, just you and me tonight, with no distractions.”

“I don’t know that I know him,” she whispered as she cuddled me to her, arms snug around my waist.

God, I adored her that much more for finding her comfort in me. Her soft curves against me turned my head fuzzy, the chink in my armor for her slightly larger with the already sizable weak spot I had for her. “You’re alright with me, Abby.” I inhaled her clean peach smell from the top of her head. “Just dinner, and you can hold my hand when you feel nervous.”

I held her for long silent moments, allowing her the time to get used to the idea, and soak up what strength she needed from me. “Come on then. Dinner and then we can spend time together, alright?” I stole a look at her face, just in time to see her nod in agreement.

She asked me to hang back while she picked out a pair of my sweats to put on, and awkwardly slipped into them, her cast making things more labor intensive. She combed her good hand through her hair and pinched her cheeks to give herself a healthy glow in the mirror before following behind me to the kitchen.

“Well there’s the little peach,” Ben greeted enthusiastically just this side of over the top, teetering on the edge of falling off the other side. “How goes it, Abby?”

The petite woman stared him down hard, judging his greeting of her. I saw an ounce of recognition in her, but it wasn’t an overtly positive response. “You’re…” she began softly to the stilled form of Ben. “You’re Be… Ba…” she stalled searching through the cotton confusion in her head. “B-Ba-b… be… Barth… Cunder… snatch,” she mumble, drawing out each syllable, but knowing she got it wrong.

Before Ben could correct her or make a snarky remark, I announced warningly, shooting a cold stare at my best friend to say nothing, “Benedict, Abby. Benedict Cumberbatch.”

She nodded solemnly, but I could read in the lip nibble that she was disappointed in herself for getting it muddled. The end of a long day always got the best of her, especially when her memory was sketchy. She looked up at me innocently for support.

I touched the small of her back with my palm. “Ben and I were in a film together.”

“He’s on telly.”

“You remember that?”

“Um, yeah… Sherlock?”

One look at Ben confirmed that he was anticipating a bigger response, a bigger reaction from the amnesia girl, maybe disgust, maybe fangirl, but the deadpan confusion threw him off.

“You don’t remember meeting me, Abby-girl?”

She shook her head in a very unpronounced way in my direction to disguise it from Ben. Under her breath she repeated his name to make it stick, then asked, “Can he get anymore British?”

Turning her attention back to my mate standing on the other side of the table, she asked, “Do they let you out of England with a name like that?”

“Often enough,” Ben smirked. “I brought you some flowers, a get well soon gift.” He handed her the bouquet of yellow daffodils, a thoughtful but rather cheap present for her.

She accepted them with a clipped, “Thank you.” She handed them to me almost at once to put them in water, her body language clearly communicating that she didn’t want them.

“Do you watch my show?”

Abby screwed up her face indignantly. “Are there racing cars in it?”

Ben shook his head.

“Is Richard Hammond in it?”

“No, just someone that looks a lot like him.”

Abby stared at him blankly, unimpressed and unable to grasp what he was getting at.

Benedict quickly filled in the gaps, “Martin Freeman… roughly the same height as your Hamster there.”

“Well, I like him, but I’m not watching your show. Too stuffy.”

I couldn’t stifle the chuckle, nor did I want to, after that bit back and forth. Abby was unimpressed with Benedict or his show or his sense of humor, and it immediately put her at ease.

We all settled down to the meal that Benedict brought, with him on one side of the table and Abby and I on the other. I sat at Abby’s right hand side, her stronger, so she could rest her cast on the surface, next to her plate on the other.

“So how’s hotel Hiddleston treating you, Abby?” Ben asked, chewing around Pakora.

Abby looked up from her plate, but didn’t answer.

“Food and board, and the clothes,” Ben commented.

My girl gave him nothing to work with or comment on.

I stole the conversation before Abby turned snippy or more embarrassed about her situation. I hadn’t fully prepared either of them for seeing each other again, and although they almost had a clean slate to work from, they weren’t going to get along. Dinner became a tense gathering, my girl gone absolutely quiet as Ben and I talked back and forth.

*

Reclining back on the sofa, I lowered myself backwards into Abby’s open arms, automatically encircling my chest in a loving embrace. She accepted me wholly, guiding my head to rest against her breasts. I kicked my legs on the length of the sofa, Abby’s legs framing my body on either side. She usually sat between my legs and I held her, but she encouraged me to sit with her.

She’d been watching Top Gear while Ben and I finished our conversation about work and cleaned up after dinner. Abby excused herself and hid away in the living room with Hammond to protect her from the evil man.

After a full day on set and a meal that seemed endless, all I wanted was to sit back and enjoy the last few hours of my day with my girl. She muted the television and whispered in my ear, “I don’t like that man.”

I laughed, “Some things never change.” I kissed her palm. “I thought you might get on this time, but I don’t know what happens between you and Ben. You just never get on.”

We sat in silence, winding our fingers around each other, enjoying our time, the two of us together.

“Thank you.” Both of her hands, the good one and the cast covered one, splayed out over my chest, holding me, comforting me with her presence.

The downbeat, quiet moments like this were so worth the effort I put into being the best man I could be. The pause that came following the lightning fast pace that my life had become since I called myself an actor made me appreciate the quiet and the still of being at home with my girl.

I brought her good hand to my lips to kiss her palm again and mumbled, “What are you thanking me for, love?”

“Today, yesterday… last week, tomorrow – all of it.”

“You sat in my trailer for almost twelve hours,” I commented softly. I adored having her on set with me so I could check on her myself, but I worried that she’d get bored easily.

“But I did get to see you, doing what you love, and you have this amazing drive and passion for it.” Her fingers worked into the longer waves of my Prince Hal hair, stroking and playing with the strands. “Then you came to me to be sure I was reading or working or memorizing… or for a kiss…” She placed a kiss along my cheekbone.

I closed my eyes to shut out all the other distractions, giving in to the feather-light touch of her lips on my skin. My Abby was alive, and I had her wrapped around me. The car accident could’ve been tragic, and I was grateful. The tremendous relief gripped me again, sitting with her. If I were a truly religious man, I’d send a prayer of thanks to whichever higher power watched over me and her in sparing her life.

“Lunch- you came to take a walk with me. How you kept up my routine while managing your actual job… You amaze me, Hiddleston.”

I lifted her good hand to my lips and swiftly kissed her palm again and again and again, her compliments speaking directly to the pleasure center of my brain. “Abigail, my love, thank you.” Her appreciation meant everything to me. In those moments, the words put air in my lungs.

“How did it feel to be back? I’ve kept you away for so long.”

“Enormously satisfying. These plays have been something I’ve wanted to do since I was in university.”

“What about them?”

I curled my fingers around the fingers of her left hand. Her fingers were still nimble and somewhat usable despite her broken wrist. “It’s Shakespeare and literature. Masculinity and honor. It’s so rich, a role of a lifetime, because Hal becomes a man over the course of the three plays. An inspirational piece of work.”

“You’ll be amazing at it, I’m sure.”

I twisted my head around to get a kiss, one that Abby was keen to give me.

“You spend a lot of time on the phone with Luke the other night,” her tone took on that empty, hollow sound when it came to her friend, my publicist’s name. She hadn’t spent enough time with him to know how much she liked him, or to grow close to him again.

“I did. I have work out of town when I wrap with the BBC.” I was avoiding work to spend with Abby. The girl had waited all day for me, stealing only a few minutes here and there between takes. Tonight I wanted to re-balance to give her my focus. That was until Ben showed up unexpectedly.

“Where do you go?”

“Hollywood first in the second week of April.”

I felt Abby nod and her grip around me tighten, clinging to me. When she stayed noticeably quiet, I could sense her unease. I stroked my hand over her arm until I felt her take a shuddering breath.

I sat up, pulling free of her embrace to look at her.

Tears swam in her eyes, struggling to keep them in check from straying.

“Oh, Abigail,” I pulled her up and into my arms as gently as possible. Instinctively she burrowed into her place on my lap and tucked herself under my chin.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said sadly against my shirt.

The first outwardly affectionate display she made for me without reservation. My heart soared with the light feeling of tenderness that I felt for her. She liked me enough to be upset at the thought of being away.

“Abby, I don’t want you to worry yet, baby. I’m here now, and Luke and I are working on some options.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes flashbacks - in italics. This will fill in some of the holes in Tom and Abby history that were covered in Upstaged/In His Kiss.

_Three days. **  
**_

_Three torturous, endless, agonizing days._

_I stewed and beat myself up for leaving the girl, the shy actress that I’d been indulging my every sexual desire with for nearly six months. When Luke called and asked me down to the pub to toast a successful 2011, I jumped at the opportunity to get her out of my head after acting the jerk._

_“What the fuck crawled up your arse and died, man?” Luke asked as a greeting. He placed a cold pint in front of me as I practically collapsed into the chair opposite him. He signaled to the barmaid for two more after taking one look at the state of me, anticipating a long night. “You’ve been a shit mood for two days.”_

_“Three days.” I balanced my elbows on the table and held my head between my hands, fighting the tension headache that began the minute I stepped out Abby’s flat door. “I fucked up, Luke, unforgivably and irrevocably so.” I gulped down half my beer at once to chase away the pain and the guilt, before holding my head again._

_“Family, career or personal?” he asked studying me._

_“Personal.”_

_“Spill.”_

_Breathing a heavy sigh, I lifted my head. “I’ve been - Abby - Abigail… we’ve been…”_

_“You’ve been fucking her for months,” he interrupted nonchalantly. “I’m not blind or stupid. Don’t need all the gory details, skip to what happened.”_

_Despite my guilt of leaving Abby like a coward, I laughed humorlessly. Luke was a no frills kind of bloke but he was an excellent listener, keen on being the voice of reason. “She told me that she loved me.” I waved my hands before letting him react. In a way of explanation, I rushed, “All this shit went down, I saw her with this guy, Henry… more shit went down and then she actually said it. She said it!” Even to my own ears, I sounded like I was ranting._

_Luke pushed my pint closer to me, telling me in no uncertain terms to drink up. “You had to be stupid enough to sleep with someone you worked with.:_

_“You’re about five months too late with that fucking lecture, mate,” I said, tipping my pint in his direction. I gulped down the rest as the barmaid delivered our next round._

_“Fair enough. I’ll save it for Thor 2, and you dredge up your lust for–”_

_“I get it!” I stopped him, wanting to wallow and simultaneously fix this mess I found myself in. “Actresses, man.”_

_“Your last four girlfriends have–”_

_“Abigail isn’t,” I interrupted when he counted her as one. “Wasn’t,” I corrected._

_Luke chucked, “Okay.” His sneer and statement was chock full of disbelief and out and out irony._

_“She’s not.”_

_Luke nodded, rolling his eyes behind his pint at his lips, “Whatever you say, Thomas.”_

_“Fuck!” I cursed, slamming my pint on the scuffed wooden surface. “I-I-I love her, don’t I?”_

_“For months now. You were dead to rights by opening night, when I came round.” The voice of reason in human informed me downing his beer._

_“She was only meant to–”_

_“Whoa! No details, don’t need ‘em.”_

_“To fill a need.”_

_“You have a right hand, mate,” Luke stated, nodding in the direction of my hand. “So what did you do after the declaration?” He’d already guessed it in his head, but wanted me to spell it out for him. His perception burned through me, his eyes like direct spotlights, the actual interrogation had already begun._

_“I ran. I left her. She fell asleep in my arms and I slipped out.”_

_Luke shook his head in utter disgust for my shameful behavior. “You need to get over yourself.” He knew me too well, and was about to hold up a mirror, and I wanted to crawl under the table before he revealed the real me. “You’re so afraid of repeating history that you’re creating and feeding someone else’ sordid past. Yes, your past is painful and you’ll always question the next relationship. But not everyone- no, not every woman is guilty of that crime.”_

_“She could be after the fame. She was a fangirl first.”_

_“This girl? The same girl that can barely look me in the eye when you invite her over. The same girl that has done nothing but keep your affair quiet for months. The same girl that just confessed her heart to you.” Luke nearly laughed into his crisps. “I looked her up, ran her credentials - for you. I wanted to be prepared if she ever spoke out or published in Daily Mail - whatever. I noticed you were with her at opening night and ran a pre-emptive report.”_

_This was one of the reasons I’d hired Luke. He was always working every angle proactively, anticipating the next thing that could tarnish the celebrity sparkle. He had my back and knew that even if I did something foolish, he could spin it._

_“This girl escaped from Norfolk about ten years ago after the last of her family died. She’s been working in and around London ever since, flying under the radar.” He scoffed, “After the fame… did you know anything about this girl before you climbed into bed with her?”_

_“She suckerpunched me with her soulful eyes and bewitching blush and the gorgeously bright smile.”_

_My publicist, best mate and assistant looked physically ill from the poetic description and my lack of self control around a woman I’d know for only a fortnight. “You had to go for the–” He swiftly changed his thought, turning what would be another lecture to a question. “Alright, you ran with your tail between your legs, what do you want to do besides throw every lame reason you can think of not to be with her? What do you want?”_

_“I want to be with her,” I finally said honestly, letting my heart speak instead of my stubbornness, for the first time since I met this girl. “I want her in my arms.”_

*

“I could put her up with my parents. They’d adopt her in a heartbeat, sight unseen.”

I chuckled into my mobile, shaking my head at the utterly ridiculous first suggestion Luke proposed. Conversation number two wasn’t progressing any better than our first one a week ago about how to care for Abby while I was occupied with the Avengers junket tour. Her wrist wouldn’t be completely healed, and her producers wouldn’t let her back in the theatre without the cast off, if her brain relearned her play in time to step back into character.

“I don’t think that’s best for her.”

“Come on, Tom. Think on it. She’d get an adopted mum and dad, and they’d get the daughter they always wanted.” Typical Luke wanting to hide Abby away to keep her safe and protected. Who knew that a game of Connect Four with more pieces flying through the air than on the actual grid would bond them so much?

Luke had been stopping by after the accident, only with less frequency than when Abby knew him. Abby’s amnesia upset him greatly with her not recognizing him or the nights they played together. Not only that, but he didn’t want to be the one to upset her. After I’d been filling him in on everything going on with her, he didn’t want to make her feel dumb or flustered or scared.

*

_“I’ve heard so much about you, Abigail,” my publicist greeted stepping into the foyer and offering his hand to shake._

_It was the day after New Year’s when Luke came by to review our contract for 2012, and some of the things he’d set up for me, appearances and movie premieres and such. He’d met Abby only in passing, one of them on the way to see me while the other left and very briefly at the play Abby and I’d been in._

_Abby held tight to my arm, almost hiding behind me, but shook hands with Luke. She was slowly warming to meeting the people in my life, as a couple. She met my mum and my two sisters at Christmas and we had plans to go see my dad on a long weekend. Mum didn’t take to my new girlfriend, instead she came off as disappointed and disapproving of this ‘new’ relationship. I chalked that up to being involved with another actress, and mum’s cynicism, knowing my ill-fated romances and how poorly the last few treated me._

_Luke, having set me straight, helped me get the girl back after treating her so abysmally. Finding dirt on her producer that got him dismissed before threatening Abby again. Circulating Abby’s CV to set her on a path to new employment after escaping the clutches of the BBC. Pulling audition notices for her and scheduling her for some events that coincided with mine, so Abby and I could go together by happenstance. My publicist wanted to keep her status as my lover on the down low until he worked his PR magic to spin it as a positive to my mostly female following._

_I had my doubts that Abby could handle the scrutiny that would be tossed her way when we went public. On one hand she was anxious for an identity instead of staying in my shadow because I’d kept her a secret for so long, but on the other hand she loved being special and cherished by me._

_The three of us filed through to the living room, Luke and I making small talk while Abby remained glued to my side and staying silent. I sat on the sofa, prompting her directly beside me with a pat on the cushions while Luke took control of the oversized chair._

_“I like you, Abby,” Luke smiled and attempted to chip away her silence without any pomp and circumstance. Luke was a people person, first and foremost, suave, genteel and welcoming, even when it wasn’t his territory or turf. He could also read others like a book, picking up on simple cues and using them to make friends._

_“Your character, Janice, on that show—“ He snapped his fingers as though he was searching his brain for the title, when he knew very well what it was._

_Abby helped him out, “Meetings by Chance.”_

_“Right! That’s it. Format was spot on, Chance and all his friends, brilliant really. But you…  I didn’t watch the show much, but you always stole the scene.”_

_“Thank you. That’s sweet,” she said quietly, touching my knee unconsciously, just to feel closer to me._

_Shooting a questioning look towards Luke, I felt worry for Abby in this, the remembrance of her evil producer and her weak dismissal from the show. Mistaking her touch as a signal for help, I voiced a small warning, “Luke…”_

_Abby tugged on my sleeve, “I’m okay, Tom. He can say.”_

_Winking Luke knew what he was doing, and I understood what he was doing. “Abby, your Janice- well, truth be told, I was always pulling for Chance to pull his shit together and get with Janice. Goes against the entire premise, I know…” He popped with a quick, “Oh! You had that one scene—“_

_“The ballroom dancing!” Abby jumped in._

_Luke chuckled, keeping his reactions small for my girl’s benefit, keeping her comfortable. “Absolutely brilliant, love. Really enjoyed your role and what you did. Quite graceful, that.”_

_“Was it?” she giggled. “Learning those steps, the routine… so difficult. Then they made me talk on top of counting off in my head.”_

_I coiled my arm around Abby’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head, struck again by pride. This talented woman was mine, and she chose me._

_She and Luke spoke more about the show, but avoided the behind the scenes chat that amounted to Abby feeling dejected and dirty, Dennis’ many advances still fresh in her mind. Because she enjoyed the conversation with Luke so much, she asked me to invite him to stay for dinner that night._

_Over bangers and mash at the kitchen table, my publicist tried on another tactic to earn Abby’s trust. “As child, I always remember my parents wanting to give me a sibling. They tried everything, including voodoo, I think. Of course I was around six or seven at the time, so I assumed a baby came from Tescos or the stork at the zoo. I wasn’t sure what, but I didn’t understand the… mechanics of it.”_

_All three of us laughed together at his description, Abby and I beginning to fall under the spell of Luke’s story telling. “One of their methods was a bit… let’s say… well, exactly that, method. They practiced having another baby in the house,” he said, continuing on his story, something I’d heard before, but new for Abby._

_“Uh oh!” she exclaimed._

_“No, no, no… this is the good part. Actualization, they tried actualization. They adopted a baby doll named Matilda. It was one of those dolls they give out in schools as a form of birth control… one of those. Matilda turned the house upside down, with her crying and weeing – among other things. Since both my parents were still working and couldn’t exactly hire a childminder or get leave from their job for a fake baby, we had to sort of turn her off every morning. But from early evening all the way through morning, that doll became part of the family. When that month ended, we all missed her.”_

_“What an adventure,” Abby commented. “Sounds like great fun!”_

_“You remind me of Matilda, Abby.”_

_“I’m not sure about that. Have you seen the crying and the weeing and the other things from me?” she quipped._

_“No, but you’re roughly…” he squinted and tilted his head, looking her over across the table._

_I added, “The same size as Matilda?”_

_“Yes!”_

_“Ooh, a funny one, another gigantic funny one,” she said, elbowing me in the ribs._

_Laughing, I pled innocently, “Luke implied, I just filled in the blank.” I managed to kiss her on the lips as we both giggled at Luke’s joke._

_“Aside from that, it’s the same round face and the big beautiful eyes. You’re Matilda.”_

_I’m not sure how the night turned from sentimental sweet to bawdy game night with Hobnobs, Maltesers, and Connect Four discs flying through the air and bouncing off each other’s heads. But by the end of the night, Luke and Abby were friends, and he took to calling her ‘doll’ because of his long lost sister, Matilda._

*

“They’d adore her,” Luke argued again for putting Abby up with his parents. “She’d be the daughter they never got.”

“Not the best solution mate. She’s afraid of her won shadow in new environments and situations, especially when I’m not there.” That was sound reasoning, but also,

“I want her back at the end of this tour.”

“But I want to adopt her.”

I laughed into the phone, shuffling some books aside on one of the shelves by my desk to wedge in some newly acquired ones. “Give it your all, man. I think she fancies me now.”

“Alright, then seriously, we should bring her along. We can hire a nurse to travel along with us.”

I hesitated, “She doesn’t need that kind of constant care anymore. The cast is a nuisance but not quite worth the expense of a twenty-four hour nurse.”

“Can Emma put her up?”

I’d already learned the answer to that, having considered that first, “For a night or two, possibly, but not for a month. Emma’s up in Butlins in Scarborough for that seminar on the 20th.”

“Your mum?” I heard the skepticism in his voice, Luke was drawing at any possibility.

“Mum didn’t take to Abby when they met at Christmas, and I don’t want to have that conversation with mum.

Luke sighed and I heard one mouse click on the other end of the line. “You’re going to say no, but I’ve been working on something else.” The resigned tone told me that this was something he concocted and spent most of his time on. “I’ll pitch it to you and let you decide on whether we approach Abby about it.”

“Go on, I’m listening,” I stopped rearranging my office to concentrate on what Luke had to say. I don’t normally sit still when I’m on the phone, but his emphasis on it intrigued me.

“Let me hire her.” He took a moment before launching into the heart of his proposal. “I know you wanted to avoid bringing her along because she’s nervous about traveling and this would be her first out of England, but hear me out. I could hire her as an assistant to handle social media. Nothing too extravagant or time-consuming. I’m talking five tweets a day or two blog posts for each step along the tour. There are Marvel twitter accounts, and I could release a designated screen name for fans of yours specifically to follow. Abby could be your connection to the fans, and I think it could boost your exposure.”

“You want to use my girlfriend as a bridge?”

“In a different capacity. Nobody would know that she’s your girlfriend. Nobody would specifically know who she is. We’ll give her a screen name, and she can be like a fan on this adventure with you. Maybe answer questions, but at the very least boost you up some. You’re known with Thor, of course, but I honestly think this film will make you a household name. For your fans, I want this to be an experience.”

“Like a day in the life of a fan?”

I could tell that Luke was excited about this. It was something I could easily do myself along the way, but he’d come up with a solution for Abby while simultaneously boosting my career, not in a huge way. Considering how shy and anxious Abby was in London, I wondered if she could handle the stress of traveling, surrounded by so many people. She had the personality to pull off public relations, if she overcame her nerves.

Through the quiet in the house and before Luke said another word, I heard Abby shriek loudly, followed by what I assumed objects crashing to the floor.

“FUCK! I have to go! Abby’s in trouble!” I don’t think I even ended the call before I abandoned my mobile on the desk and ran for her.


	16. Chapter 16

With my heart in my throat and my pulse pounding in my skull, I tore through my flat at the fastest I’d ever gone from my office to the master suite bathroom where I’d left Abby. The bedroom door was partially open when I pushed through at top speed, the wall groaning in protest against the slap-bang, the wood cracking in my wake.

My mind raced with every terrible scenario that would cause Abby to shriek that awful sound of terror that rang in my ears. I called out to her, “Abby!”

Please don’t let her be bleeding.

Please don’t let her be hurt.

Please just let her be mine.

“Abby!” I bellowed as I reached the locked door of the bathroom.

“Tom?”

“Abby! Abby!” Instant relief washed over me at the sound of my name from her lips, at least briefly. I tried the door, twisting the knob, fighting against the lock. I jiggled, pushed and pulled to get to my girlfriend on the other side. “Are you alright? Abby! Open the door!”

“Tom, I’m fine.” But there was a tinge of something not altogether fine in her tone.

“Abby, please…” I nudged the door again, needing to get to her, needing to see for myself that she was actually fine.

With false calm edging on hysterical, she said, “Don’t come in here.”

“Why did you scream?”

“Got a bit lightheaded… Don’t come in here.”

“I can’t,” I proved again by clicking the knob and shaking the door. “Abby, love… I heard things fall to the floor after you screamed. Tell me what’s happening.” I couldn’t hide or cover the worry in my voice. I needed to get to her.

“I-I-I’m… fine.”

“Define fine.”

Silence.

“Fine as in nothing happened and I imagined the last 60 seconds or fine as in you’re in a heap on the floor, gushing rivers of blood and don’t want to worry me?”

She muttered something under her breath, the words withheld by the barrier between us. Then, she burst out, “Um… is there another option?” She was moving within the room, but I couldn’t make out what she was doing. “Somewhere in the middle?” An object moved across the vanity and clattered to the floor away from her. “Bugger!” Another whispered explicative.

“Abby!” My frustration and blood pressure increased up a notch, needing to know for myself that she was in one piece.

“It’s nothing, Tom. Don’t come in here,” she repeated.

Judging by the off-kilter tone worming its way into her voice, I couldn’t take anymore stalling. “Abby, open the door.”

She sighed in resignation that she’d have to follow this order. “I don’t remember… have- did I go clumsy when we met?”

Despite the fact that she couldn’t see me, I shook my head and furrowed my brow in confusion. “No… no… only in the kitchen and on certain days of the month.”

All movement and shuffling on the other side of the door ceased. “You know about that?” her incredulous shrill high pitched question made me laugh. I couldn’t help it. I had a perfect visual in my head to accompany that voice, staring at the door, blushing bright red since I knew one of her symptoms of her monthly cycle. It helped alleviate some of my worry of the state of her if she could be easily distracted from what kept her locked up in the bathroom.

“Abby, we’ve been together for almost a year,” I said as a reminder. “Now open the door.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“Tom, I don’t- would you ring Emma for me please?”

Bracing my hands above my head on either side of the frame, I spoke calmly, “Emma’s got fittings tonight. I can help you, whatever is going on in there. Let me in.”

“I  _really_  don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

Coyly avoiding the answer, she said defensively, “I have my reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“I dropped… some… thing… sss”

“One thing or many things?”

“Maybe all the things?”

I was starting to feel a little better, my stress falling rapidly the more she talked. She was using her sense of humor to combat whatever calamity she’d caused in there. “I can help with that, baby. Just let me in.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well… I’m not exactly dressed,” she confessed hesitantly.

Smirking, I told her frankly, “That doesn’t bother me, Abby.” I heard my modest, shy girlfriend click her tongue at me from the other side of the door. “Alright, alright… if I promise not to have a reaction, will you open the door?”

“No reaction? At all?”

“None.”

“Charming, Hiddleston,” she said sarcastically. “A boyfriend that doesn’t react to seeing me in less clothes.”

I blindly walked into her verbal trap. “Can’t win for losing.”

There was more movement coming from within then the unmistakable sound of plaster against the cupboard above the toilet. Abby whimpered and cursed again.

“Oh, God, Abby… please. Open the door. Let me help you.” I hated feeling so helpless when she so obviously needed my help. I felt my body preparing itself to knock down the door. Maybe that plastic through the crack in the door thing used in films actually worked. No matter what happened, I was going to find a way into that room.

Humiliation colored her words, “Please don’t laugh at me when I do.”

“Abby, I wouldn’t… please open the door.”

Slowly, my girl flipped the lock and cracked the door, but only a fraction.

She was a sight, damp hair, black lace bra and my sweats cinched around her waist. A strong waft of her peach lotion assaulted my nose since she was wearing more of the stuff than clothing. Dollops of the peachy liquid stuff were tangled in her wet tresses, and dripped from her shoulders and bra and down the cotton of my sweats.

On any other day, it would’ve been comedic, but the look on Abby’s face… so defeated, so disappointed and so overwhelmed.

Doing my gentlemanly best to ignore her state of undress or notice how stunning her breasts looked enhanced in black, I offered her only sympathetic understanding. “Oh, Abby, what happened? How- how did all this… happen?”

Her good hand dropped the t-shirt and reached for me, clutching at me for a handle on her situation. “Got a bit dizzy… the room went all swirly. I’m okay, but—“

I guided her through the gap in the door and into the bedroom, ignoring whatever mess left behind. I carefully looked her over for signs of injury, other than lotion covering her head to foot, plastic covered cast and month old bump on her head. There were no new marks on her. I held her cheeks between my hands, watching her pupils for response. “Did you hit your head? Does it hurt?”

“No, no… I’m fine. Just a little episode from- just a little episode.”

Her eyes were clear and focused from what I could tell, but I didn’t like that she got dizzy at all. “I want to call the doctor.”

She shook her head, “No, no, no… I don’t need the doctor. It was silly, Tom. No doctor. The steam from the hot water… is all.”

I pulled her up, lotion and all, into my arms to sit on the bed, the woman across my lap. “Tell me what happened.”

“Tom, it wasn’t that serious,” she explained, her face pink with embarrassment. “I covered my cast like you showed me, ran the water a little too hot, a little too long for a shower – even while covering my cast. The steam made me light headed. Afterwards, sat on the toilet to lotion and dress but stood up too fast. The room spun sideways and I lost my balance.”

I brushed my hand down her good arm, inspecting her for bumps or bruises, the lotion-free side. “But you’re feeling okay? No other side effects? Or pain? Or swirly rooms now?” With each question, she shook her head, denying any further maladies.

Confirming that she was alright, I breached the state of the bathroom, knowing I’d have to tread lightly after her resistance and her reluctance to show me the aftermath (the destruction I’d yet to see for myself). “Do you want to tell me about the scream and the lotion?”

Woefully she gave me a sheepish look, peeking up through her lashes, “You noticed those, did you?”

Smiling a Cheshire at her, I assured her that I did. “Wearing lotion is usually a bit more subtle because you can’t see it.”

“Don’t be mad,” she warned.

I assured her, “I won’t be mad.”

Sighing, “When the world went swirly and I lost my balance, I stumbled. My bottle of lotion was on the corner of the vanity. I fell into it on my cast. I think the weight and the pressure from the cap made the bottle explode.”

“Explode.”

“A bit.”

“What’s the state of my bathroom?”

Abby giggled, “Peachy!”

“And what’s on the floor?”

“What isn’t on the floor?” she asked in response, rolling her eyes.

*

Starkly cold and hard in my palm, I turned the tap on for the shower. The metal did nothing but remind me how soft and soothing and warm Abby was beneath my hands, how forgiving, how unbelievably sexy. Taking a lesson from the knob, I steeled myself against the erotic and numerous memories I had experienced with her.

Our first time together in the mirror in her dressing room.

How insanely hot she got me the day of our costume fittings. She had me wrapped around her tiny pinky, eager enough to take her in a staircase. She gave as good as she got that day, and that afternoon, I may have acknowledged that I was smitten with this woman.

The night after I saw her with Henry. I made love to her for the first time that night before I acknowledged for myself that I was in love with her.

The night she finally shared her heart, what she felt for me. Her voice telling me that she loved me scared the hell out of me, but stuck with me.

Scared shitless because I hadn’t earned her, I’d treated her so… like a cad.

The night before the BAFTAs, before Abby as I knew her was taken from me, she was at my flat after her performance, before I returned from set. She’d already put on one of my t-shirts to lounge around and await my return.

Our love life and our sex life together was voracious, avid and insatiable. I had her coming undone, falling apart and sobbing my name in ecstasy within minutes of stepping through the door. In the afterglow, as she curled into her spot against me, she whispered her love for me as a benediction, and I had felt it.

Preparing myself to see her close to naked did nothing to quell or delay my body’s response to her, especially after three weeks of not touching her or having her. I felt the wind knocked from me in the rush of blood to my groin. To add salt to the wound, she stepped into the running water in her matching floral bra and knickers.

I was sunk, done in and blind with need for her.

A man driven to aching distraction by a woman wearing a plastic bag on her left hand to protect her cast and globs of peach lotion hanging in her hair.

It was a scene out of comedy movie.

Abby was taking a shower in her undergarments for the sake of modesty before me, the man that compared how she tasted under chocolate and dark chocolate syrup and ice cream off every inch of her. I’d mapped each and every curve of her body with my hands and my tongue, but she insisted so I let her have her creature comfort.

I wasn’t sure if the undergarments drove my desire into overdrive though. I knew what was beyond the thin material, and my evil mind set to keep the visuals in my head. The memories of her breast heaving against my tongue as I circled her nipple with a scorching lick, my fingers between her legs. Her breasts had captured my fancy from the first time I saw them. I’d always thought myself a legs man, but Abby sorted me. They were generous, plump and all mine.

*

_I’d never forget that second Sunday we spent in bed together, all day. I feasted on memorizing every inch, every hair, every mark, every scratch or healing wound. When we weren’t together, that day played in my head like a film, and got me through finding relief by my own hand._

_I was drawn to a birth mark in the shape of a sundae on the back for her right thigh. It was no bigger than two centimeters, and was just a patch of skin slightly darker than the rest of her flesh._

_Abby had made the decision to forget her shyness and put her trust in me, that I wouldn’t harm her or hurt her. She took new steps in her own sexuality that day and she’d given me the privilege of being there, experience them with her._

_“I don’t want to scare you or hurt you.”_

_“I trust you. Do it.”_

_It was the first time I’d heard those words from her. ‘I trust you.’ That was all I wanted to hear from her since that first time she ran away from me._

_Abby had been the first to blush, stammer, and run as fast as her feet could carry her away from me. But her intoxicating peach scent and the feel of her when she fell into my arms infected me. I was addicted at the onset, and there was no cure._

*

Breathing deeply in an attempt to tame or temper my raging desire for nearly naked, certainly wet woman holding my arm so she didn’t fall over. I was caring for her but the surges of want were so intense that I thought my cock might erupt, and not in the pleasant, satisfying conclusion.

“Tom?” Abby’s voice broke through my intense memories.

Gruffly, I said, “Abby, talk to me.”

Her eyes were reading my struggle with restraint within myself, the determined set expression, the plant of my feet, the stiff hold of my hands, the heave of my chest. She wasn’t blind to my need for sexual gratification or the evidence of the fly of my trousers lifting with the strain of my erection, and aware of our history, as least as much as I’d told her.

“Please, Abby, I’m about at – I want you so much. Distract me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a mixture of pure regret for making a mess of the bathroom and putting me in this predicament and absolute awe that another human wanted her as much as I did. Her hand slid from my arm to my stomach where she placed her palm along the center. “I… never – just can’t – I’m not ready – for that.”

“Ignore this, Abby, and don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize for that. You’re in a different place emotionally than I am, and that’s okay. I don’t expect you to be after the trauma you’ve been through. I’m in love with you, I haven’t lost that. I want to share in that with you, but only when you want to.”

Washing the lotion out of her hair with my hand, I told her, “Even though you were a few months ago, or even a month ago, things change. I desire you, Abby, and I always will. There’s no denying it or hiding it. But don’t feel pressured to rush into bed with me.”

Her fingers inched lower along my stomach, a touch that I was very aware of but I was having my patience torpedoed with each passing inch towards my belt. When her fingers hit the northern point of my happy trail, I sucked in oxygen to calm the blaze of arousal scorching through my veins. I threw my head back and whisper-cursed, “Fuck!” A single oath disappeared into the white noise of running water, evaporating and replacing with hot steam.

Abby was exploring, learning and discovering me. Those questing fingers felt both novice and expert. Her eyes lowered to watch her hand run up and down the patch of hair. “This,” she said wistfully, almost thoughtfully, “looks… familiar.” She breathed in awe as her fingers danced along that definition on my abdomen, just above my belt.

The torment she bestowed on me… my God! I loathed and craved it all at once. Her bolder touches drove me mad with desire, a soul devouring want for this woman, and she’d never understand the power she had over me. I barely understood it.

“The green dress…” she murmured, her mind working to fill in the blanks. Most of the time, she’d stare off into space, but somehow this trance seemed more immediate. The pieces of her fractured memory clicking and fitting into place. “Green… shimmery green…” Her fingers stretched, her palm over the small patch of hair. “And this.”

My brain was firing on all engines to combat the rush of sexual magnetism that swelled and brimmed at that touch, her touch, Abby’s touch. The inside of my cheek bled, raw and abused, from biting down and biting back that need to connect with her, my Abigail. Each and every nerve of my body screamed to take her, fuck her into the tiles of the bathroom wall, but it would feel so empty without her heart attached to the act. She meant too much to me now, and I could hold out for her.

“I’m… remembering – something.” Her revelation displayed with a myriad of emotions on her face: excitement, arousal, fear, trepidation, and happiness. “A green dress. I was wearing it. And I remember this spot on you.” As she stepped closer, her thumb swiped along my skin, directly below my belly button. Sense memory made her stand on her tippy toes and kissed my cheek. The reminiscent gesture opened my eyes and I knew what she was remembering.

*

_“Tom, when you come back from the bedroom to collect your woman, cross to her with no other agenda than to reclaim your right as husband,” the director wildly waved from down stage right, unable to withstand the excitement of blocking the pivotal moment of his ‘baby.’_

_The man addressed my costar, “Abby, you’ve just learned the wickedness that your family capable of – on your birthday!” He was gesticulating and his face melted from one expression to another so rapidly, almost an animated character of himself. “This truth that’s put a wedge between you and your husband, nearly cost you your marriage. After all that, he’s still the man you fell in love with, he’s still the man at your side through thick and thin.”_

_Enthusiastically, his mouth flying at the speed of his thoughts, his words spilling. He clapped as another thought occurred to him. “Tom, your costume for the party scene, this is it, yeah? A button up?”_

_I nod in agreement._

_“Brilliant! Lost it for this scene, when you come to her. I want you genuine, free of all the outside influence. It’s down to you and your wife, Sarah, yes?”_

_Suddenly he turns back to Abby, her eyes twinkling with the promise of seeing me half naked. “That’s alright by you, Abby, yes?”_

_Biting her lip, worrying the skin with her teeth, her gaze raked down the length of my body with a hungry look that screamed of the hours we’d spent in absolute ecstasy together and the hours yet to be enjoyed. “Absolutely.”_

_I winked for her as I stripped the shirt off my shoulders. I crossed back to my entrance, behind Abby as the excitable man bounded back downstage to look over his notes, his back to us. For her ears only, I whispered, “Sinful little minx.”_

_With her gaze locked on our clueless director in the hopes of keeping him in the dark about our less than professional affair, she threw back over her shoulder, “Takes a sinner to know the sin, Hiddleston.”_

_Caressing the curve of her bum, I saw her suppress a shiver of arousal, her eyes closing at my touch. “I’ll have you purring my name after crying mercy for your sins.”_

_Pressing back into my hand, her eyes alight with desire, her sass answered, “No doubt, I’ll be on my knees.”_

_I groaned in her ear, insanely in lust for this fascinating woman. Our show opened in a week’s time and how far she’d come from running and hiding from me to verbally sparring with me about our pleasure filled nights. My hand sunk lower to between her legs, leaving a hint of a touch there._

_“Abby,” the director came back from his script as I exited to the wings. “When he enters, you know what he wants and Sarah wants to give it to him, a reawakening of what you always wanted to be there and what is there.”_

_I watched from just off stage, in the wings, as the director coached his leading actress in his vision of the eleven o’clock scene, the climax of the play itself, the love scene between our two characters._

_Abby, petite, shy Abby, wasn’t my usual choice in female companionship, but she’d become my first choice from that first time I touched her in her dressing room. Ever since we’d been pushing each other’s buttons, testing each other’s boundaries as lovers, and learning what worked for both of us, and it was so easy being with this girl._

_All I wanted was for my costar to lose her nervousness around me, make her comfortable, make her trust me. To be frank, I also wanted sex, to get laid, to feel a woman beneath me, against me, around me again._

_The director had us run through the scene multiple ways, using different approaches until he found one he liked that was in line with the vibe in his head. “Can we try it with Abby seated without a verbal apology? Just cut that line. I don’t think it’s a necessity, your body reads it already, Abby – very well, very very well communicated – let’s pick this moment as an improvement of your marriage and your characters non-verbal—“ He waved, dismissing the rest of his thought as he’d been repeating the same idea or the last hour._

_Abby seated herself in the set’s living room chair, in character as Sarah, arranging her shimmery green cocktail dress perfectly over her knees, straightening the hemline. I didn’t have a line or any dialogue to speak until my character led his wife off-stage to the ‘bedroom’ as a continuation of the love scene that started on stage._

_In character, I strode across the stage to stand before my wife, living, breathing, and giving life to this conflicted man that stood beside his wife through her crisis of faith, family and love. He carried his own doubts throughout the saga and wore emotional battle scars. Reconnecting with his wife would heal some of those._

_The non-verbal apology directive modified Abby’s acting choices. As Sarah, her lines were delivered with more emphasis, her voice more poignant as she explained the evils her father had done. Without warning, completely in the moment and true to her character, Abby touched my bare abdomen and kissed the northern point of my happy trail before delivering her last line before the reunion kiss: “I understand that now. You made me understand that.”_

_As my character lifted her from the chair into the passionate kiss, I swept her off her feet into my arms. The director clapped once loudly and exclaimed, “Yes! That’s it!”_

_I placed my costar back on her feet, both of us a bit thrown by the cut short scene and shoved back into reality so quickly. “Abby, that was brilliant! The submissive position helped you climb from the depths, like your character does… that was…” The man looked about ready to kiss Abby himself, and the thought ricocheted around my head painfully. Thinking fast on my feet, I insinuated myself between him and her before he could reach for her. The move subtle enough that I drew his focus on me instead._

_“Tom, how did that feel for you? Are you cool with her being that intimate with you?”_

_“She can do whatever she wants with me.” I said without innuendo or double-meaning intended, though it was there. Somehow that became the truest statement I’d ever spoken to that man._

*

“Tom, may I touch you?” Abby’s attention had drifted further down, beyond the belt of my trousers. It was down to just the two of us, the water and the steam of the shower.

She didn’t wait for a response. The fingers of her good hand were gliding the belt out of the loops, the leather wet and slick from the shower. I’d kept it on for her, for her comfort, for her modesty, but something in her changed with the remembrance. Knowing something from our past, a flash of memory that she found on her own gave her confidence, to be with me, to be brave with me.

“You don’t have to,” I managed to say through the throbbing in my groin.

“I want to.”

Echoing my words from months ago, I moaned, “You can do whatever you want with me.” I fell into her mouth, kissing her ravenously, pressing her into the shower wall.

Abby didn’t lose a beat, she answered my kiss with just as much spirit, vigor and passion as I poured into her. All my frustration, pent-up sexual energy and love that I’d been keeping under a tight lid spilled out into that kiss.

In a rush of madness, I took control of freeing myself from the confines of my trousers, opening them just enough for my cock to spring out. I guided her hand to my length, wrapping her fingers around me. Raggedly I grunted-groaned into her touch, all my reserve spent in staying away from her, giving her the space she needed to gain her place with me.

But then she stroked me from hilt to tip, sliding easily along the rigid flesh, and I just about exploded on the spot.

With my forehead pressed into hers, I swore, squeezing my eyes shut against the enormity of sexual need propelling my hips forward. The swell and stress pushed forth needing an outlet for all this energy I’d been keeping at bay, just barely, all for one tiny woman with a great big heart.

“You’ve been so good to me, Tom,” she whispered, letting me feel her breath on my face, as her hand slid up and down, back and forth. “So good.”

“Abby, ohhhhhhhhhhhh….. godddddd…..” Her words where tainted with a playfully, naughty tint, and she was, without a doubt, working me over in the best possible way. “Fuck… fuck… fuck…” I chanted with every move she made on me. I thrust into her hand, and she answered with another confident pull. “Oh, godddd, Abby…” I swallowed hard, pretty sure I was about swallow my own tongue in the state she had me.

“Thomas, show me how much you want me,” she insisted. “Come for me.”

The world went black and silent, and then my entire body released. I felt myself collapse into Abby, crushing her into the wall as my cock erupted in the best way. My girl was right there to hold me to her, whispering words of encouragement and praise. This woman… I loved this woman with every fiber of my being.


	17. Chapter 17

“Abby, how-and I’m putting this as delicately as I can- but how did you get lotion on the ceiling?”

“You promised,” she poked me in the ribs, scowling from her seated position on the vanity. Her little feet kicked out in tandem of each other and she reclined back against the wall.

“I did promise and I’m not laughing.” And I wasn’t laughing, at least not out loud. I couldn’t hurt her that way. “I’m simply marveling at the skill it took to get it up there,” I remarked pointing at a glob of the peach lotion on my bathroom ceiling. I’d sat Abby on the vanity while I set everything back to rights after her run-in with the lotion bottle. “Especially for a petite woman of your size.”

Abby imitated a laugh in an exaggerated way, setting her arms on my shoulders, the good one then the cast covered one. She crossed them behind my head, pulling me with her. “Quite the comedian, Hiddleston. Lemme tell you something. Keep your day job.”

“You could always get me back by revisiting my kitchen,” I smirked.

“Careful there, I just might. I could whip up a nasty old mess for you to clean up in there.” She pushed her tongue out between her lips, giving me a full raspberry.

I stopped her silly disparagement with a long, fully engaged, kiss, one that left us both breathless. I was grateful for the slight reprieve she’d given me in the shower, as I found my raging hard on a bit easier to manage now. The urge to bury myself in her was still there, would always be there, but the edge was shaved down to a dull ache.

“Tom,” she said softly after breaking our kiss. “Can you tell me about my memory? It’s all so fuzzy… did I really remember something?”

*

I woke gradually sometime in the middle of the night with Abby snug against me, I presumed, asleep. For long moments, I stared unseeing into the darkness, trying to pinpoint what woke me. My flat was soothingly silent, darkness nearly complete, Abby’s peach smell (a tad stronger after her battle with the exploding bottle) in my nose. All was as it should be.

I snuggled Abby closer, leaving a kiss on the top of her head as I closed my eyes to find sleep again.

“Tom?”

“Hey, baby,” I greeted groggily, rubbing her arm. “Why are you awake?”

“I’ve been thinking.” The fingers of her bad hand crept up my side along my ribs. Her fingertips dragged out a caress, following a path that only she mapped and knew by heart. A familiar caress, I recognized Abby’s innate, instinctual displays of affection. The track led her to the small smattering of hair in the middle of my chest, her little fingers tickling the spot, a spot I knew she loved on me.

“What have you been thinking?” Localizing my touch to what she considered safe zone territory, I stroked my hand down the back of her hair.

“I wish that- I wish my memory- the thing I remembered- I wish it was more about you. The dress- your tummy, it’s all just slivers - broken images in my head. I want to remember  _you_ , Tom.” From the energy, the emphasis, and the abrupt delivery at which she spoke, she felt disappointed that she’d been living all this time without her memories and this was her return. Frustration and impatience were at the heart of her broken up thoughts. “I want to-  _you_. I want to remember  _you_.”

“Abby, it was me that you remembered and that’s an improvement.” 

“No,” she stated simply, tracing the word across my bare chest to accentuate her point. “I remembered your character, my character, not you, not me – make believe. And not even all of that… just a dress and this.” Her bad hand stroked to my happy trail and went still again.

After our incredibly erotic shower, during the bathroom cleanup and a late light dinner, I’d given her some context to her memory or flash of whatever it was, retelling the plot of the play and the relationship dynamic of our characters. After the explanation, Abby hadn’t said anything. I’d been expecting her signature ‘okay’ or some kind of acknowledgement when I told her about us or something that happened in our relationship. A word that said she committed it to her memory to recall and mull over later.

“Alright, it was partly me that you remembered. But you’ve remembered something and that’s the part to focus on. Baby, that’s a win for you.”

She harrumphed against me, slightly perturbed that I was counting it as a victory of sorts. “Don’t you feel cheated?” she asked me seriously.

“Cheated… no, Abby, you’re getting better and that’s all I want for you.”

“What about for you? Tom, after all you’ve done…”

Soothing a hand down her hair and all the way to the small of her back, I kissed the crown of her head. “Listen to me, baby. I’ve done everything to know you’re safe. I did that for me as much as for you.”

Bitterly she said, “And I repay you by remembering your character, and not you.”

I shifted underneath her head, futilely peering down at her in the dark. I couldn’t see her, but I didn’t stop me from trying. “Abigail, baby, don’t be so hard on yourself, love.” I understood why she didn’t say anything earlier. She was upset that after all this time, the green dress floating in and out of her mind, she’d been left without a true memory of us. She’d been pinning all her hope on that.

Needing to alleviate her stress, I moved out from underneath her and slid down the bed until I was level with her along the pillows.

Her bad hand moved back down to my waist, along my side, maintaining the tactile comfort she sought.

The dark kept me from seeing the distress I knew would be there, her frown, the downturned corners of her mouth, the worry lines along her forehead. I pulled the duvet up to cover her and snuggle her closer to fight against the vulnerability she felt. “Why do you feel that you owe me anything? You’re not indebted to me. Please get that out of your head.”

“For me, you’re like this virtual stranger that’s opened up his heart and home to the orphan girl with no place else to go and nobody else to take care of her.”

I pulled her closer, leaving no room or gap between us, giving her all my warmth and all of myself. If my touch helped her get through the downswing of the pendulum of recovery, she’d have all I had to give. “I don’t see it that way.” I approached her doubts in a different direction, not wanting to invalidate her feelings. “For me, I’m caring for the woman I love because I don’t trust anyone else to do it, to do it right, to see to her every need and whim. She needs me as much as I need her.”

To lighten the mood, I added, “Who was going to help me eat all the biscuits in the house? Who else was going to make my bathroom smell like peaches? Who else would give me every reason to rearrange my book shelf?” My copies of Austen novels were still in every room of my flat wherever Abby laid them down to work on something else.

“How do you need me? You have so much more than me… a flat, a car, a huge career, a posh education, a family… and a Luke!”

“What’s all that worth without someone to call my own? Without a friend to turn to when my hands are raw and chapped and mangled, bleeding from the dried cracks?”

“I did that?”

“You did, my Abby. What’s all that worth without a woman who loves me so much that she created a riddle driven scavenger hunt themed birthday present that brought me to her as my prize?”

“I did that?”

“You did that, and it’s worth more to me than my flat and my car and my education, all that. Abigail, you challenge me, keep me guessing, and through it all you’ve loved me. You fought for me. You knew your heart so well, so well that you taught me mine, to trust—“ I stopped myself mid thought as I felt a pang of guilt in my gut. Abby had taught me all those things, but I still hadn’t trusted in her completely. I hadn’t been straight with her about my history, my unfounded suspicions, and part of my motivation in caring for her.

Her hands found my face in the dark, the light feathery touch along my cheeks. Her thumb traced my lower lip. “I feel like I’m betraying you by not remembering those things, cheating you by remembering a bit of a character you’ve played. You deserve better than that.”

Betrayal and infidelity, these were the worst for me, very personal and the source of my weakness when it came to any relationship with a woman. With Abby, I had tried to start over, but these insecurities were a part of me. She presented me with the perfect opportunity to speak my mind, tell my truth, and finally unload the weight that kept me from breathing freely. And yet, I remained silent about it, kept it bottled up and hidden away. Abby saw all of my positives, my good qualities, but the fear that I would lose something and appear less in her eyes kept me quiet.

To assuage my guilt, I said, “You’ve done nothing wrong, Abby. You know me, baby, it’s somewhere in there, in your confusion and your bruises. It’s in there.”

Her hands were guiding me closer to her, I could feel her slowly reeling me in. “I want to remember, Tom. I want to remember you.” Her entire body pressed into mine, her softness, her tenderness. “I want to remember because I like you so much.”

Addiction was a powerful affliction and I had it for this woman. When I felt her breasts against my chest under my thin t-shirt she wore to sleep in, the erection that she’d appeased only a few hours before lifted again, for her. The declaration and the physical reminder put me in the quicksand of lust and desire.

Before pulling me into the last few centimeters for a kiss, Abby admitted, “I think I love you, Tom.” Her lips were on mine, and I couldn’t respond with anything more than tucking her under my body, allowing her to have me as she wanted. My pulse pounded in my chest at the feel of her beneath me again. My body hummed and vibrated with the affectionate energy she showed me with no reservation.

Her lips parted for me as I felt her knees holding my hips on either side. I groaned into that kiss at the realization that she wanted me there, between her legs. Abby’s good arm hooked around my neck, locking me in my proper place against her mouth. Engaged in a sensual dance, my tongue tasted hers, thirst for her sweetness, searching within for what made her mine.

Moving with the thought of sharing and giving her pleasure, I thrust my erection against her center, separated by what felt like miles of cotton. The maddening friction only enticed me to do it again, and again. I grunted as I pressed into her again, and Abby made a strangled gasping noise into our kiss.

Adjusting herself under me, I almost lifted off her in anticipation of her slamming the brakes, forcing us to a full stop, but she wouldn’t let go of me. In reality, she was just as aroused as I and she moved only so I hit the right spot between her legs that gave her the most pleasure.

The air around us was tightly electrified and torrid with our need for one another, and my breath came out in hot pants against her neck as I rutted against her, feeling her respond, hearing her little sighs of pleasure right against my ear, feeling her body temperature spike. When I smelled her arousal, the peach smell mixed with her desire for me, I became a man driven by deprivation, being without the woman he loved for too long. Her stimulation fueled my own need to share in the emotion we felt.

She wasn’t sure of her heart, and I understood that it was all jumbled up with the confusion in her head. She wanted to know herself before committing to me, but I recognized her falling into her habits with me as she’d done before the accident.

In those moments with her, being intimate and physically affectionate with her, I fell deeper in love with her. She trusted me again, and God help me, I loved her more powerfully than before.

When she moaned my name, my cock swelled in my sleep trousers. I rocked against her, creating more erotic sounds from her. Pressing open mouth kisses into her neck, I increased the pressure against her clitoris, and I knew I was close to her climax. I wanted that for her, more than my own.

I licked all the way up her neck, savoring her sweat and her desire for me, to whisper in her ear, my pelvis bucking into her in a slow drawn-out pace. “I can’t wait to get inside you again. Feel your vibrancy, feel you surrounding me.”

Her breath hitched, followed quickly by a sigh of my name. Her good hand tangled in my hair holding me immobile in her grip, both in arousal and not wanting me to stop seducing her in body and word. She whimpered, “Oh… God… ohhhh… Tom, Tom, Tom…”

“May I touch you, Abby?”

“Oh please, Tom…” she replied breathlessly, her hips straining against mine, looking for her orgasm.

After granting me her permission, I brushed the backs of my fingers along the center of her body from her throat between her breasts past her belly button over the cotton t-shirt to her intense moist heat between her legs.

“Your knickers, Abby—“ She stole all rational thought and all I wanted was to be with her in every possible way. “You’re so wet.” I pressed the flat of my hand against her folds, feeling my girl writhe against me, reaching for her ecstasy at my hand, because of my hand. “You always liked my fingers in you, baby.”

Abby’s legs spread wider, placing all her trust in me. Tucking my hand into the cotton intimates, one finger slid easily between her folds. My Abby held her breath, her hips bowing off the bed. Gliding another finger into her center, I found her sweet spot inside that made her exhale in a wordless exclamation of pleasure.

“You’re about to come, baby. I can feel it, I know your body so well.” Burying my face against her neck to worry my teeth against the column of her neck, another sensation I knew she loved so much. I laved the spot, nibbled and licked until she bucked up against my hand in desperate frustration. “I’ve got you, baby. I want to feel you release.”

I thrust my fingers into her, harder, withdrew slightly to circle her g-spot before pulling out completely. To increase her pleasure, I flicked over her clitoris before pressing back in to manipulate and coax her g-spot again.

Her wetness dripped down my fingers and she was the most gloriously vocal creature I’d ever had the privilege of meeting, let alone bedding. “Beautiful Abby, I love when you get close to orgasm, you clench, your entire body goes still in preparation…”

Abby stalled, almost like she was obeying my words.

“—you gasp –“

She did.

“—and your body collapses against the bed as your pleasure consumes you and you come undone.” She followed exactly as I said, my name poured from her in a passionate cry as her orgasm claimed her. A small amount of liquid released from her when her climax took hold and all I wanted was to see her, to be able to see the pink flush of her cheeks, her features relaxed in the throes of passion.

In the moments that followed, I slowly circled her clitoris, bringing her back to me, back to reality. “That’s my passionate little minx.”

Proving my statement, her hand disappeared in my trousers and within seconds she made me come like I had earlier that night.

*

My phone was ringing when I entered my silent, vacant trailer when I stepped off set. I looked at the caller ID to see my publicist, only a little disappointed that it wasn’t Abby since I hadn’t talked to her in a few hours.

“Tom, hey, how goes it?” Luke asked, yelling into the receiver, his voice breathier than usual. The hurried question came at a faster clip, indicating my publicist was on the move and working during his commute.

“Luke, thanks for ringing me back, man. Did I catch you at a bad time?” I asked, closing the door to my trailer behind me for a little privacy.

“No, I’m on my way to the office, was actually going to ring you now anyway. What’s on your mind?”

I put the phone on speaker so I can change out of my costume into street clothes, and get home to my girl. “I wanted to talk to you about the junket. I thought on it and I trust you. I’m not convinced that it’s a good option for Abby, but I want you to pitch it to her.”

“You’re okay with that?”

I stripped off my poet’s shirt as part of my costume and slipped into a plain white button down since Abby used most of my t-shirts. “If you want this for me, then I’m on board. If you think Abby is a good fit for this idea, then I’m on board. From a personal, non-career move, my reservations are for her, her shy nature and how she has a tendency to disappear in a crowd. We’ll be surrounded by so many people and it’s a lot of travelling for a girl who’s never been out of the country. But it’s a job you’re offering her, something she might want. What if her memories don’t come back? What if she can’t retain a script in her head and return to work? I can’t stand in the way of another opportunity. She should have the choice, not me.”

Luke made a noise of acknowledgement, choosing the next part of his pro list to convince me to bring Abby along carefully. “I know it’s one more thing you’d have to think about on the road—“

“I’ll be worried for her whether she goes along or not.”

“True, true… I know you want what’s best for Abby, and I want that too. I came up with this idea, because, Tom, you’re what’s best for Abby right now. She needs you as her constant while she gets better and to help her when lotion bottles explode on her.”

“Luke, you should’ve been a solicitor,” I replied, rolling my eyes. He made a convincing argument for Abby’s best interest. “I want to watch over her myself, but I don’t want her to feel neglected along the way, whether I leave her here with someone to keep her company or on the road and I get busy with interviews and appearances and conferences.”

Luke added proudly, “Then she’ll have me. She may not remember me right now, but I don’t want to leave her with anyone but you and you have to go.”

“So pitch it to Abby, it’s her call.”

My publicist tried not to sound too victorious when he switched gears on the conversation. “Is Abby with you on set today?”

“Not today. She asked to give it a go alone today, wanted to stay by my flat. Emma promised to pop round with lunch to check on her, see if she needed anything, keep her company for an hour or so. I haven’t heard back from them since this afternoon, so I was going to call Abby next.”

“I’ll grab a couple of pizzas when I’m done at the office and bring 'em by yours. We can talk with Abby tonight, yeah?”

“Brilliant, thanks, Luke.” We agreed on a time while I finished changing and getting ready to go home to my girl. We ended the call with a ‘cheers’ and I dialed Abby’s mobile number.

“Baby, I’m on my way home,” I told her voicemail when she didn’t pick up. “Are you alright? I haven’t heard from you.” I climbed into the backseat of the hired car to take me back to central London and home. “Luke’s coming for dinner and we wanted to talk with you about something exciting. Love you, Abby. See you soon.”

I kept the device close to hand should my girlfriend call during the short half hour ride back to my flat. London’s traffic was surprisingly light, and the driver was navigating through easily enough. I sat back to unwind after the day, relieved that Luke offered to pick up dinner on the way to my flat.

The car pulled up outside my flat only a few minutes after I anticipated. I pocketed my phone a little surprised that Abby hadn’t returned my voicemail. I let myself into my locked front door with my key, expecting my girl to come running to greet me, like she always did, but the place was quiet. “Abby?” I hung up my leather jacket and shoved my bag in the bottom of the foyer closet. I went to the living room to find Abby, but only found her mobile.

She’s left a puzzle book open in the middle of the coffee table, a few novels from my shelves and a half drunk cup of tea. “Abby?” There was no answer from her or sign of her in the kitchen. I checked my office and the guestroom, knowing she wouldn’t be there, having only gone in those rooms looking for me. Both were empty and she wasn’t in the bedroom or the connected bathroom.

To ease my mind, though I knew she would be there either, I peered out the window to the back garden to confirm that she wasn’t there either. I returned to the kitchen and the living room to check for a note, but there wasn’t one left for me to find, at least not in any obvious places.

Retrieving my iPhone, I dialed Emma’s number and she picked up immediately. “Hey, big bro. How’s it going? You home now?”

“Hi, Em. I’m home. How’d lunch go today, with Abby?”

“No complaints. She told me about the memory she had, and the smell of her sandwich triggered something else today. I’ll let her tell you about it, you might understand it.”

“That’s fantastic! Hoping these images keep recurring for her,” I said, making another circuit around my flat for my missing girlfriend.

“Me too, it’ll boost her up a bit.”

“Listen, Em, have you talked to her since you left?”

“Abby? No, left her around two or three.”

Damn. “Just thought I’d check with you. She probably went for a walk. She left her phone behind, so I’m concerned.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Call me later, let me know you found her, okay? I gotta get back in there.” She clicked off before I could fit in another word, or ask what she had to go for.

This was Abby’s first day at my flat alone, and she’d handled things fine without me. Not much was out of place, the rooms were still standing, and she’d called me every couple of hours to let me know she was okay, that she wasn’t lonely and that she missed me.

After our hormone induced night with the lotion and the orgasms, we’d dialed things back between us a bit. That didn’t stop her from joining me on set the next day or another night full of kissing like teenagers and touching each other while a movie played unwatched in the background. We were having fun together again and things were fantastic.

This disappearance was unexpected. I wrestled with the idea of staying at my flat to wait for her and taking a walk along her path through Regent’s Park just to see if she was there. We had a few hours before Luke was due with dinner, but the unknown didn’t sit easy with me. Unable to sit and wait, I changed my shoes to my trainers and set out in the direction of the park with both of our phones.

About twenty minutes and a few metres separated me and Abby. I found her in the park walking away from my flat. She wasn’t alone. Dwarfed by the figure beside her, she looked up at her very tall, very broad companion. Stark black curly hair stood atop shoulders as wide as a lauri, and the same build to go with it. Instantly, I knew she’d reunited with Henry.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly flashback (in italics), a retelling of Chapter 4, 5 and 6 of In His Kiss from Tom’s POV  
> The dialogue used in the flashbacks is directly out of In His Kiss. If you haven't read In His Kiss, this is to explain who Henry is and what he means to Abby.

_“I have a date tomorrow night,” the petite actress on the wrong side of angry spit out at me, avoiding my reach for her and evading my gaze._

_Naked as the day I was born, I stood in my foyer staring after the infuriatingly puzzling Abigail, the woman I’d been sharing my bed with since midsummer. She’d stormed out, obviously angry and upset with me about something, but damned if I could suss out a woman’s mind. Orgasms to annoyed in five minutes and I hadn’t the first clue why. It wasn’t the first time_

_After ten days away from her in New York City for the War Horse premiere and then stuck on set for long, long hours, I’d been needing Abigail to work off some of the sexual frustration. There were other women at my fingertips, any number that’d be at my front door within minutes, but all seemed so unappealing after having Abby._

_Ever since I first touched her and known how incredibly she responded to me, all other women paled in comparison. Grumbling to myself, I schlepped my way back to my bedroom and en suite for a shower. It was still early, and I found myself with a free evening._

_As I climbed into the relaxing spray of my shower, my mind replayed the last few minutes with Abby and how it’d gone from another blissful night of incredible sex to the girl slamming the door in my face. I chose to ignore the last thing she said before closing the door behind her, the part about having a date the next night. She only threw that at me because she was angry and wanted attention. She couldn’t mean it. We were exclusive, we had to be._

_My mind drifted back to fucking Abby, her smell, her taste, the sounds she made. My cock already missed her. I’d been looking forward to having her in my bed all night after the rough days on set, the tension and stress of finding my mark during the muddy battle scenes and relearning a whole scene due some cut dialogue._

_Abby became my solace, a bit of fun and pleasure outside of the rigorous schedule I kept in my career. She was my quiet, my light at the end of the tunnel of an incredibly long day. My Abigail._

_Before I knew it, I was hard again for her, searching for her in the shower. The visual in my mind’s eye and the memory of Abby snug around me were the perfect companion to get myself off until I saw my lover again._

_After work the next day, the car dropped me at my flat. Instead of going inside and making myself a cup of tea, I took the tube to Abby’s. I’m not sure why I did, other than out of habit. I wanted her and I hadn’t heard from her all day. If she was angry, I could apologize and then we could go back to bed. That’s how most of our little disagreements were hashed out. Fuck it out until nothing mattered anymore._

_Only this time, it wasn’t as easy as that._

_Abby had company._

*

At the sight of Abby and Henry walking together, side by side, my stomach dropped to my feet and my heart stopped. From the day he’d met Abby at an audition, Henry crushed on her. His feelings for Abby forced me to admit my own or her, how deeply I cared, how much she’d come to mean to me, and how much I didn’t want to lose her energy in my life.

My history with Henry had been brief, tense and probably more dramatic than entirely necessary. Abby’s friend resembled Superman without all the bright colors, and never quite reacted as I expected he would. Being the size he was, I assumed alpha male, but he wasn’t. He always liked Abby and made no secret of it, and genuinely seemed a nice guy.  

I hated his presence in her life, rankled me and rubbed me the wrong way. I always felt like he was working an angle to get closer to Abby and wedge me out, stealing her away from me.

*

_I saw Abby with her arm in Henry’s before she saw me, and the sight made my skin crawl, stabbing pain prickled the pores of my body. The understanding – assumption on my part – of our physical relationship was that we were exclusive. But when she stepped out of her flat with another man, a blaring alarm went off in my head. Abby and I never discussed the terms of our affair, our arrangement, we just jumped into bed together. In my delusion, I expected Abby to remain monogamous with me, without a conversation._

_Seeing her with Henry felt so much like a betrayal on terms she didn’t know. She violated some agreement that I’d constructed in my head. Abby called me out on my shit straight away when I pulled an arsehole move in zed to 60 in two seconds flat. “What the fuck is going on here, Abby? Are you seeing him?” the righteous indignation spilled from me as soon as Henry was out of earshot._

_Abby shoved a pointed finger into my chest, answering my question with a question. “What the hell do you care?” My sassy girl wouldn’t give me an inch when I was playing the wounded party. Crossing her arms over her chest, she put her foot down, dug her heels in and wouldn’t give in to me. “You’re at my flat. You answer my question first.”_

_“Sex with you is a lot more enjoyable with you there.” She should’ve slugged me and I wouldn’t have blamed her. I was covering my own pain at seeing her with another man and confusion over why she was angry with me._

_She called me out on it, telling me that she chose Henry over me that night because he appreciated her for “more than my lady parts and orgasms.”_

_“Are you letting that man touch you? Have you been with him while you’ve been with me?”_

_Abby threw down the gauntlet: “I am not a hole for you to stick your dick in! You can’t claim me like a possession.” She stomped off with the other man. She didn’t say that she was sleeping with this bloke that called himself Henry, but she didn’t deny it either. The unknown burned through me._

_She walked away with Henry!_

_The jealous prat in me showed his true colors. I couldn’t share Abigail. She was mine. The primal animal had claimed her with marks on his skin with love bites on her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. I left my scent on her with every pet of her hair._

_Without knowing it, Henry invaded my territory._

_What was this fucking pull that this tiny woman had over me?_

_*_

_Two trains stopped, loaded and unloaded Londoners, and pulled away from Barons Court, Abby’s stop on the underground. Something in my gut kept me from stepping from the platform onto the Piccadilly line and go back to my flat. Abby’s hold over me arrested my will to move. Her anger, her annoyance and her irritation worked its way into my blood, adding to my already mounting stress. I was reeling from the confrontation in front of her flat with Henry just off in the distance._

_The affair wasn’t the easy, carefree fling that I’d envisioned for myself when I shagged her back in July, and yet I couldn’t walk away for good. Nearly six months of the most amazing sex of my adult life, and I didn’t want to let it go now._

_Aside from reporting to the studio every day, I had Abby to look forward to, another night of explosive passion. She got me revved up and energized, ready to tackle another obstacle, climb another mountain, accomplish the next day. Knowing she was on the other side waiting for me with open arms… It wasn’t just about the sex, never was, if I was honest with myself._

_Abby walked away from me! She got the last word._

_Fuck it, that had nothing to do with it. Her ability to stand up to me, to call me on my shit was refreshing. She may have been the fangirl when I seduced her, but she saw right through the celebrity, and I couldn’t use her crush on me like a weakness anymore._

_She fancied me, I couldn’t deny it. The sweet, sensitive girl with the huge compassionate heart couldn’t disguise it. Given material and a script, she was truly a gifted actress, but in her own life, in her own shoes, she couldn’t lie._

_I loved her even then, as much as I was loathe to admit it. I was already in deep._ _“Shit!” I spat, feeling my own annoyance. Another train pulled out of the station without me on it. I turned on my heel and climbed the stairs, two at a time. I couldn’t let Abby go off with another man. I couldn’t stand the idea of her spending time with someone other than me. Abby and I weren’t done, I was loathe to lose her now. She kept me going._

_Striding through the turnstile, I caught sight of Henry going in the opposite direction, alone, without Abby. He saw me at the exact same moment while scanning his Oyster card. Our eyes clashed, sizing each other up as competition. This man was built like a brick house, tall, broad, strong, standing about the same height, but he had at least two stone on me in muscle mass._

_I kept walking, I had nothing to say to this man in Abby’s life. I had no idea who he was other than his name, and I didn’t care to know more._

_“Tom! Hey, Tom!” Apparently the other man had something to say to me._

_I had only a moment to consider my response to his approach, but he’d caught up to me before I even left the station doors. I couldn’t ignore him._

_“Tom, can I talk to you for a minute?”_

_Defensively, I wanted to say that we had nothing to say to each other, but I stopped and gave him a curt nod. I didn’t want to give in to him, but my curiosity got the better of me. I didn’t know if Abby had moved on from me so quickly or if she’d been with both of us. She could’ve given herself to him as a revenge against me since she stormed out of my flat the day before. She was sore about something with me, hell if I understood the woman’s psyche._

_Henry held up his hand defensively, demonstrating his words, “I don’t want to fight, just talk.”_

_I swallowed the need to one up this man in some regard. He clearly had me bested physically, but the juvenile part of my brain wanted to prove my dick was bigger than his. Fucking testosterone._

_Side by side, we stepped out of the way of the doors and the other commuters._

_“Tom, mate, I don’t know what I stepped in the middle of,” Henry started out explaining, hiking his thumb over his shoulder. “Back there, with Abby.”_

_In my head, I snarled at his using her name. The jealous beast pawed and clawed the ground, screaming, “MINE!” I hoped that my stoicism would see me through however long this conversation lasted before I demonstrated what my brain thought._

_“I suppose it’s not really my business. I really only care for her.”_

_“As do I.”_

_Surprised that I responded, Henry looked at me straight, “Do you? Have you told her lately?”_

_The sounds of the traffic outside and the commuters passing us by filled the dead space between us. I didn’t respond to the question as Henry was neither entitled to a response, nor did I have one to give. Prior to my business trip to New York, an invitation that I extended to Abby, she and I spent almost every night since July in each other’s beds. She was my friend and my lover, so naturally I cared._

_My affair with Abby came with a certain amount of freedom, freedom from the discussion of feelings. Our conversations were mostly limited to whose flat we were fucking in tonight, what was for dinner and what we did that day._

_Easy. Without obligation._

_Henry didn’t look like he was actually expecting an answer, more like lobbing ideas at me. “Look, Tom, Abby’s a sweet girl, and granted I don’t know much about her yet, but I like her. Something tells me that she’s kind of alone. She clams up whenever we talk about anything personal, but she can make me laugh.”_

_He adjusted his ball cap on his head and his leather jacket over his broad shoulders, after I narrowed my stare on him, my indifference masquerade slipping. “I’ve asked her out – on a date – several times, eight to be exact. She agreed the last time, but backed out on me. Tonight was meant to be-“_

_“Yeah, got it.” The clipped words were out of my mouth before I could bite my tongue. I didn’t need the details of his tryst with my girl. I made a move to walk away._

_Henry stopped me with a hand to my chest. With the angry momentum I’d gained in the split second, his quick reflex and strength, we ended up taking a step around each other, our positions rotated by 180 degrees, instead of me hastening a retreat. “I don’t think you do get it, man. She backed out on me and made me a cup of tea instead. Nothing happened between Abby and me, she wouldn’t allow it.”_

_Somehow, in some inexplicable turn of phrase and the regret coloring his words, this appeased me, not in a huge way, but enough to calm the ‘MINE’ chant in the back of my head. He wanted Abby and he couldn’t have her, my pride hiked up a few notches. I was still jealous as hell that he was in Abby’s life at all. She never once mentioned him to me, and yet Henry had asked her out._

_“Abby and I are friends, I’d like us to be more than that,” Henry appeased, but I challenged him with a cold stare. “If you’re with her, I’ll respect that, but I won’t stop seeing her. If she asks me to help, I’ll be there.”_

_*_

I approached them. I couldn’t stay away or retreat back to my flat, leaving her with him. That was my girl. I’d been there for her, and I wanted her. As I closed the distance between me and them, one emotion surged forward from my gut above all others.


	19. Chapter 19

Watching Abby reconnect with Henry was painful and real and happening right in front of me.

Henry, in his friendly manner, placed a reassuring hand on Abby’s shoulder. Before I could jog forward and claim my girl, she cowered. She made herself even smaller, pulling into herself to shield from being hurt. I’d seen the defense mechanism before and it was an unconscious reflex on Abby’s part. I recognized it from those first few days in hospital, right after the accident, the wounded girl had done it to me. My girlfriend didn’t know or remember her friend.

Henry recoiled and held up his hands to show her that he didn’t mean to harm her. From his profile, I saw him apologize, so clearly, I could almost hear the words from the distance.

I took a small amount of comfort in knowing that she didn’t remember Henry. In a twist, I wanted her to remember him so she didn’t feel so vulnerable. She would never resist the touch of a friend, the reminder that she was present, and that she mattered. But the protective boyfriend in me hated seeing her so uncomfortable, I hurried along the path to be there for her.

I wanted her by my side, holding my hand, smiling at me in her way, teasing me, exchanging puns with me. As I closed the distance between me and them one emotion surged forward from my gut above all others and it wasn’t jealousy, seeing Abby with Henry, it wasn’t pride, seeing Abby as her former self (almost), it wasn’t pity, seeing Abby give Henry a blank, confused expression.

Above all others, I felt unabashed, unquestionable, undeniable, unconditional love for my Abigail.

Gently, I called out, “Abigail.” My voice was even, without suspicion, without accusation.

Her face brightened immediately, and she turned at the sound of my voice. She took off away from Henry towards me, at something short of a run, and nearly threw herself at me. The plaster cast on her broken wrist gave her the slightest hesitation.

Abby embraced me and all I could do was revel in the feel of her so close to me, breathing in her peach scent, feeling her softness against me. I could almost feel her grin, her happiness coursing through her like a current.

She sighed into my hug, “You’re home.”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the overwhelming tidal wave of relief I was riding, choking back a rush of tears that nearly gushed from me. “More than you know, baby.”

Henry cleared his throat to politely remind us that he was still in our company.

Abby and I pulled free of our embrace, but she didn’t move far from me. Her palm against my cheek led me into a sweet kiss, a quick display of what she felt. “Missed you,” she whispered. Warmly she smiled up at me, “Took your advice, Tom.” Her elation sounded in her voice when she turned back to Henry and said, “Henry called after Emma left, so I invited him over. Just a walk, catch me up on what I’ve been missing.”

“Sorry, Tom.” Her friend seemed ready for the next testosterone driven verbal battle with me, his body held rigid and inflexible, and his eyes never left mine. “I wanted to see for myself how she is.”

I tucked her under my left arm and extended my right hand to Henry in a cordial greeting. Stiffly we shook hands, a peace offering of sorts. If I’m honest, I didn’t feel as genuinely cordial as I appeared. But Abby’s reaction to me made me feel more secure with her. She’d missed me, and I felt stronger for it. She didn’t know Henry, but she knew and trusted me. Her greeting in front of Henry quieted the jealousy. Abby wasn’t with him. She wasn’t letting another man touch her.

I couldn’t fully explain my change of heart, why I didn’t charge forward, throw Abby over my shoulder and declare her as mine. It was there, that beast capable of doing just that, but something shifted in me.

“It’s good to see you, Henry,” I lied evenly, out of politeness and civility, a village a few miles over from sincerity.

Abby picked up on the tension and the macho driven formalities, her gaze lifting from my chest to my face to watch me, to read me.

“How’ve you been, Tom?” Henry asked, keeping up appearances, but it was cold and distant.

When I set Abby on reconnecting with her friends, I never considered Henry or Charlie or her other male friends that she didn’t talk about with me, as her way of shielding me. I assumed Juliette, Daisy, Connie and her female friends would be the first to come by to check on her. Abby didn’t know how much hurt and doubt she caused me, and I realized that she was innocent in all that.

She wouldn’t remember.

The truth was she didn’t know at all, because I never told her my sensitivity, my weakness, my shortcoming. I’d shown my weakness at seeing her with other men, and she minimized ever mentioning them, but not spending time with them. She kept her friends close at hand, but was careful about telling me about any of her male friends.

In my need to hide from my past, my guilt and my jealousy, I kissed the top of Abby’s head. “Are you alright, baby?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t know that you’d be home early. I would’ve had the kettle boiled.”

“Only day shoots through next week, and then we wrap,” I said, filling in the schedule that she’d forgotten. Small details like that still slipped her mind, despite her ability to create new memories.

“Abby told me that you’re working on something for the BBC,” Henry said politely, for the show we were performing for my girl’s sake.

“Yes. Shakespeare history plays. I’m not complaining about the long hours. The edits on the script will be missed, but the production value is worth the sacrifice – I hope.” Small talk would cover the emotions bubbling underneath the surface.

Henry convincingly enthused, “That’s brilliant! I’ll look for it when it’s broadcast, ‘round the Olympics, yeah?”

“Yeah, in conjunction with some of the celebration. Should be a good time.”

“Did Shakespeare in school – A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Hamlet, but never pursued it much beyond that. ‘Course I wouldn’t turn it down if someone paid me to do it now.”

This shallow, banal conversation only lasted a few more minutes until Abby got fidgety beside me. She’d had her fill of the tension and the small talk and the talking without saying anything. She was noticeably quiet for a lot of it, listening rather than contributing to the stale talk.

“Baby, you left your mobile.” I fished the device out of my pocket and handed it to her, hoping that would draw her attention away from the unpronounced competition I had going with Henry, steer her focus away from my faults.

She took the phone from me with her bad hand, staring at it with a look of disgust and fear. “Oh, I’m sorry… I for… got.” The innocuous statement pained her more than it should’ve, and she cringed outwardly as soon as she said it. She could admit that in front of me that her memory was impaired, that she slipped up in judgment calls since she didn’t think things through all the way after the accident. She absolutely despised feeling less than herself or look foolish or dumb in front of anyone else, not knowing how Henry would judge her.

Abby could in front of me since I hadn’t passed judgment on her, or treated her any less. I’d loved her through all her mix-ups and confusions since the accident, but she didn’t like feeling less than herself before Henry. The last thing I wanted to do was put her in that position, and I certainly didn’t mean to point out her faults by drawing the focus away from my own.

Near a whisper, she asked, “Tom, can you take me home please?” Her trembled at my waist, another indication that she was upset and ready for the reunion to be over straightaway.

Henry noticed the change in her demeanor, her torment, her disappointment in herself, and kindly bowed out without chastising her or giving in to his worry for her. Her friend offered up an exit strategy for her, her comfort more important to him than chatting her up. “Abby, Tom, I’ve got to get to my shift. It was great seeing you, Abby. Tom, take care of her.” He offered his hand again to shake, which I did.

Abby only nodded and half-waved, half-saluted him with her cast, relying on me to be her buffer.

“Thanks for visiting, Henry,” I said towards his retreating back, choosing a different route of escape than towards my flat, giving Abby her space. I cuddled her to me, “Let’s get you home. You’re alright, love.” I kissed the top of her head and led her back to the comfort of my flat, a place that she’d come to think of as home.

* * *

“Tom? May I—“ Abby ventured from the hallway, peering in around the door to find me in my office, staring blankly. She had her pink duvet slung around her shoulders like I’d left her in the living room when she asked to be alone when we got back from the walk with Henry.

We’d returned from the park some time ago, and I hid away from the guilt I was living and hiding from Abby. I wasn’t hiding from her, but hiding from the truth I had to tell her, that ugly truth that I wanted to keep from her. Her trust in me was enormous, and something I’d earned without putting my trust in her.

I should follow her example, trust in my heart and be honest with Abby.

“I’m sorry that I forgot my mobile,” Abby approached me slowly, one measured step at a time, her regret weighing down on her. “I didn’t mean to make you worry for me.” Seeing her like brought into sharp focus that I brought that on her. She’d adopted my brooding as her own, assuming I was angry with her.

In truth, I was angry with myself. Every word was another heavy burden added to my incredible guilt. Abby didn’t deserve that, and I hated myself for putting that on her.

The confused woman stood before me, apologizing for being human. I had to save her from that.

I took hold of her hips, under the duvet, and looked up into her drawn face, the light of her excitement dimmed for something she assumed she did wrong. “Abigail, you did nothing wrong.”

“But—“

“You got caught up in the excitement of seeing a friend, I understand that. It’s one of the qualities I love about you, your enthusiasm. That’s nothing to apologize for.”

The fingers of her good hand sunk into my mope of hair. “I made you worry.”

I shrugged, “A side effect to witnessing what happens to you in a wreck.” I nodded towards her plaster cast. “I think it might destroy me to see you hurt like that again. You mean so much to me.”

A gentle smile pulled at the corners of her lips, a hint of her happiness with me. “I’m still here, Tom.”

The hushed words warmed the sinews and pulled me under her spell again, her little lithe fingers flexing in my hair. I leaned into the touch, anxious for more, showing her how much I liked it and her for doing it.

“Tom, did I do something wrong?” 

I shook my head in the negative. The truth was on the tip of my tongue, and the agony of keeping my secret became unbearable. Brokenly, choking on the guilt of withholding, I ask, “Why did… you go with… with Henry today, Abby?”

Abby lowered herself into my lap, guiding my arms around her waist with her hands, letting the duvet fall to the floor in a rush of cascading fabric. Reading the pain that I’d buried from the past, she spoke lowly, “This bothers you.”

A brief nod, I couldn’t do any more than that.

One barrier caved in and she looked visibly relieved by the collapse. “It was for you, a reflection of what I felt with you.” She read the confusion in my expression. “I’ve been so happy with you. I can’t remember things and that frightens me so much. There’s just black… like a black… square – a black square of nothing at all of what my life was – that missing time, it’s just black. It doesn’t get bigger or smaller, but it doesn’t go away… this blot in my makeup what makes me Abby, what makes me me. But with you, that square isn’t as square, the corners are dulling. With you the black has faded into a murky gray. It’s thinner with these teeny tiny pin prick holes, and if I concentrate really hard, there’s vivid colors and movement on the other side. But you know what, all that doesn’t matter when I’m with you.”

She took a deep breath, unloading and exposing all her inner workings. “For me, you’re just on the other side, hacking away at this barrier to get to me on the other side.”

I went to speak, to open my mouth to confirm it again for her. I would take her with or without the gray murk that made up our lives. But she didn’t need it this time, she needed to tell me everything. She placed her fingertips over my lips and continued, “I was feeling so good, still do… you did that for me. You’ve accepted me, no matter how damaged—“

I couldn’t let her think that, not even for a moment. Lifting her fingers away from my mouth, I objected firmly, “Not damaged.”

“Okay, not damaged, a little broken… maybe it’ll fix itself and mabe it won’t. The thing is you accepted me with no hesitation, no reservation with limitless patience. You saw the girl beyond the black, beyond the broken speech pattern, the endless questions, the blank stares, the confused phrasing, and the forgetfulness. Tom,” she shook her head in disbelief. “You put your life on hold for me, you slowed down to give me a chance to catch up to you.”

“Abby…”

“No, I’m not done. You asked me a question and I want to answer it.”

I settled back into the chair, keeping a strong hold on her.

“The reason I went with Henry – I was encouraged by us. We’ve been progressing despite the black whatever it is. Falling in love is incredible, the rush of excitement, the boost in confidence, the power of it – I feel like I can conquer armies and climb mountains, and that’s all because of you, and  _you and me_.”

Abby, the girl who didn’t know her friend from her boyfriend, her memory wiped clear of both of us, chose me. She was falling in love with me again, and that brought me face to face with the guilt and the imaginary boulder that sat upon my chest. Abby peered over it, without knowing it to view me, to see the real me. Her trust and her actions with me versus those with Henry displaced that boulder. There could be no disguising Abby’s regard for me, and I owed her that much, if not more for being herself as only she knew how.

“So I took your advice. I answered a friend’s call and agreed to meet him, because I thought I could handle it. I wanted to be able to handle it. You’ve been suggesting that I open the door and allow my friends to be there for me too. I was feeling brave, and Emma was here, and then I was on my own… I wanted to ride that high.”

“You took on too much at once?” I asked referring to her little bout of nerves that I took her away from.

She nodded, “I took for granted that not everyone can be as wonderful as you. I hid my… grey murk from Henry as much as I could, but I couldn’t relax with him… knowing I’d mess up. And I did.”

“Abby, sweetheart, your condition isn’t a mess up and he doesn’t think any less of you because of it. He was trying to be a friend.” Or more…

She waved her bad hand in a gesture of a brush off. “That bit’s… the grey murk… that bit’s a part of me now. I hate looking foolish and stupid and forgetful. I feel lower, uneducated, less than me, and my background…”

Abby wasn’t from an affable neighborhood or from any great schooling. Her family was working class, and she was, as most of the country was, aware of her particular place within that class.

“An accident of birth, Abby. Everyone would choose to be born with affluence, if given the choice. Don’t think of yourself as lower class.”

Dismissing the class discussion for another time, she said, “I don’t want to be mostly Abby. I want to be all Abby.” With another deep sigh, she admitted barely above a whisper, “That’s why I haven’t… made love with you yet. I want to, but I was to give you all of me – without the gray. Just you and me.”

I knew that’s what she’d been waiting for, and I was waiting for her memories to return too. This was the very reason we held back after giving into temptation and each other the night before last. The selfish, possessive half of my personality couldn’t get past the fact that Abby spoke of her feelings for me and how she felt empowered.

“It was painful seeing you with him.”

“Tom, are you jealous?”

“It’s illogical and juvenile but I am. I know that he’s not touching you, but you’ve always had a bond with him – and he fancies you, Abby.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He always has. He told me himself.”

She shook her head again. “I don’t know when he told you that, but he’s dating someone else now. He met her at the pub. Henry may have fancied me once,” her tone rang of disbelief. “But he’s not pining for me now, he knows that I’m with you. I chose to be with you months ago, right? I told you I loved you first, that wasn’t conditional that you love me. I didn’t say it as a reflex or because you said it first. I meant it then, or I wouldn’t have said it.”

How did I ever get this woman to fall in love with me the first time?

Petting my hand over her hair, I pondered at how intuitive Abby was, even in her amnesiac state, about our relationship. She’d asked the right questions along her recovery, the important questions for her, to learn about herself first. She’d let our dynamic happen between us, let our relationship develop the way that felt natural to her. She knew her place with me so well that she could comfort me in my moments of doubt.

I wrapped my arms around her with every intention of now letter go. My guilt pushed through my pride, and I finally understood. Abby showed me her vulnerability, her imperfections, her foolishness. She took a blink leap of faith to trust me and let me be in her life when she couldn’t remember. She didn’t extend that trust in Henry, as least to the same degree.

It was past time to show my emotional battle scars, my weaknesses, and let her judge me.

“Abby, seeing you with Henry – I don’t like it. I panic. This dread takes over and I become this ugly, ugly version of myself. I don’t want to lose you to him. I’m afraid that this thing in me, this poison, will make you pick him over me. I don’t think I can go down that road again. I’ve lived through the betrayal and the infidelity before – twice – and it brought me to my knees, proved to me that I wasn’t the man I was striving to be.”

Abby didn’t say anything or grimace or tangle her fingers back in my hair, like I wished she would. She was listening though, reading my expressions, delving into the meaning of all of it, considering her role in all of my insecurities.

“When you were in the accident – when the doctor called my phone from yours,” I paused, the sickening thoughts that I had returning. I had to face this fear head on that I wasn’t perfect, that I had faults, things that couldn’t be fixed or erased from my past. “I thought immediately that you were running around on me. I’ve gotten that call before, twice before, from the ‘other’ man. ‘Hey, mate, been fucking your girlfriend since you got together. Think I’m still in love with her. Give her back.’ And ‘Your bint’s running around on you and me by the looks of it.’”

She didn’t offer any sympathy or words of encouragement. Willingly she gave me the floor to say what I needed. As calm as a clam, she sat on my lap and merely listened, nothing more. There was comfort in that too somehow. At least she hadn’t stormed out or judged me harshly.

“Abby, I don’t miss the love that I felt for them before I knew their true colors. I knew that I’d been in love with another version of them, not their true person. I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s not the part – I don’t miss who they used to be. I miss the man I was before infidelity, the man before the mistrust. I hate the suspicion, the wait for the pattern to repeat itself. I’m waiting for it to turn me into the monster that it’s created in the wake of destruction. What does it say about me that this keeps happening to me? What is wrong with me? What am I not doing right? These are the questions that plague me. But most of all, what am I doing now to possibly chase Abby away?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter refers to back to some of Tom and Abby’s history from In His Kiss, specifically Chapter 3 and Chapter 9. 
> 
> I hope this was worth the incredible wait. I’m so sorry. I’m trying to tie everything up. Thank you all for your tireless support and the appreciation that you give me for Tom and Abby. I want this to be the best it can be! xx

“What you’re do—“ she giggled to herself at an internal thought before starting over, broaching the subject from another tack. She leveled her eyes back to mine from her lap, and there was a twinkle of something in her eyes, a playfulness, and a strange sort of relief. “You’re not- you’re not chasing Abby away. Abby’s just here,” she stressed, capturing my jaw in the cup of her good hand. She kicked her legs, one right after the other, effectively shifting her bum on my lap, making me very aware that she was there, and marking her words as truth.

With gentle swipes of her fingers, she dried the paths of tears I didn’t realize I’d shed. It wasn’t a melancholy that I was shaking off, it wasn’t the lost loves. The tears I cried were the alleviation of living under the guise of perfection, hiding my imperfections, for this woman to prove that I was a strong man, the one for her. In a few mouthfuls, I’d shed that and revealed the real me, the flawed, imperfect me. Abby brought out the best and worst in me, but she finally saw all of me.

I didn’t want to lose her, but she couldn’t leave if I kept talking, telling her my history. I could lose her to this ingrained mistrust in any potential lover that I carried with me. Something about the calmness in the room and the calmness in Abby kept me from digging up any more ancient history.

Quietly, she dried the tears away and surveyed the new me. Her eyes probed mine, searching out all the nuances and psychology that went into the confession. There was no judgment or disgust or distress on her face, just Abby’s serenity. Her bubbling excitement was down to a simmer. She no longer wore my mask of broodiness or the assumption that she’d done something wrong.

Deliberately, she took a few moments deciding how to respond or which to respond to first. My intuitive, instinctive girlfriend could read emotions like her Austen novels. She empathized by honing in on it like a beacon. She was so in tune with emotions, she zeroed in and focused on the same frequency, the same wavelength.

“This is the first time you’re telling Abby this,” she stated wisely, but with the glint of gaiety in her eyes. Abby’s signature, a statement, a sly one, a subconscious one, another fish for information, stating instead of asking. Her mirth brought me from the dark place and lifted the boulder that usually sat upon my chest. “Even other Abby didn’t know.” Her emphasis was clear, pre-accident, pre-amnesia, pre-injuries, pre-confusion.

Another wave of guilt and worry crashed over me, the crushing realization that my withholding could jeopardize the new trust Abby had given me and ultimately risk everything I’d built with her before and since the accident. But even as the swell of doubt grew in the pit of my stomach, I straddled the dividing line of where I belonged: with her or without her. Too many hours keeping my tongue, too many missed opportunities to be the man I wanted to be, too many unneeded worries, too long under the knurly rock of doubt.

Abby looked the picture of serenity, with swathes of color tinting her cheeks. She didn’t feel the horror that I did. She wiggled off my lap and got to her feet. “Come with me,” she ordered quietly, tugging at me to get me to follow her.

“Abby?” Confusion fell over me, wondering where this change of pace came from. I was too involved with the personal demons to obey her command straight away. My brain rallied and my body locked up at the change from our quiet conversation to action. I wasn’t ready, needing to know her reaction, her heart, her conclusion to all I’d told her. I wanted to fight for her if she chose to bugger off. But she offered her hand, my fears pushed to the back of mind.

The puzzling, vexing creature was smiling, she hadn’t lost her sense of folly, or whatever that twinkle was in her eyes. “Come,” she repeated, her hand firmly in mine.

I finally pushed to my feet and let her lead me wherever her impulse led her. She walked me into the bedroom, a short distance from one room to the next through the hallway.

At the edge of the bed, she told me, “Sit.” She motioned with her pointer finger downwards. “Abby wants you to sit.” Giggling again as soon as my bum hit the duvet, sitting on the bed we shared more often than not, she said, “That’s too much fun. Abby made the extremely tall man sit on command.”

It was Abby’s turn to school me in how to love her, trust her and be the man she wanted. This five foot firecracker of a woman had me completely besotted and

Reading her tone, her tittering infected me. With a smirk, my drama momentarily forgotten, I asked, “How long are you going to keep that up? Referring to yourself in third person?”

“As long as it takes to convince Tommy that Abby’s as loyal as she can be,” she said with a wink. Without a warning or clue as to what was going on in that fascinating beautiful head of hers, she lifted the t-shirt (my blue one) she wore over her head and shook it off her cast, leaving it in a heap on the floor. In typical Abby fashion, she wore her Thursday themed bra, a muted floral print. Emma made off with my plastic to do a quick shopping spree for female necessities and intimates when Abby was released from hospital to make Abby comfortable.

Before the accident, my girl used to call me Tommy when she was exasperated with me, or annoyed, or considered my actions or words silly. The way she looked at me was far from any of those emotions.

“Abby’s doing something she’s never done before,” she commented, stepping out of my sweatpants. I certainly didn’t object to the strip tease she was giving me, although there was nothing overtly sexual about it. There was warmth, acceptance and understanding in her blue eyes. My being honest with her made her like me more than she had before. That look, the one she reserved for me was nothing short of astonishing.

I locked eyes with her, her presence in the moment and the patience she was showing for me, a virtue she rarely possessed. Though her stripping in front of me wasn’t exactly a new thing, it was for amnesiac Abby. She was doing a thing for me, and for me alone, and I suddenly understood that. She was offering a piece of herself that was just for me, and me alone.

Abby stood before me clad only in a floral printed bra and simple black knickers, and I could honestly say that she’d never looked so stunning or sexy to me before. A thrill skittered up my spine at a new adventure, some kind of new experience with her that she concocted from my confession.  

With her fingers in my hair, I was drowning in sensation, Abby’s care for me, the way she always showed affection before, how she cared for me now. I could feel it all in the way she gripped me and looked at me.

“Did Abby ever give you any reason to doubt her?”

She was undeniably adorable for taking the mickey, removing herself and the drama from the situation, making it a little less traumatic. She wasn’t making fun of me, more poking fun at the situation. Finding some kind of common ground and equality became her main objective when she couldn’t outright say whether she’d been with Henry or not, because she couldn’t know that in her condition. However, she knew her limits as the shy, reserved girl and she was overcoming those with me, to show me her trust so she could earn mine.

I wasn’t used to exposing my vulnerability, but I answered her question honestly, “No, Abby has never given me any reason to doubt her.”

As I said it, my hands lifted to touch her like her flesh had been calling to me to do, to connect with her. Before I touched her, I stopped myself. I wasn’t sure what Abby’s plan was, if she wanted me to give into the tantalizing temptation of her scantily dressed. I dropped my hands back to my knees.

My girl smiled, registering the fight with myself and my self-control. “Put your hands on Abby,” her voice was low and sultry, a clear indication that this was something more than a conversation.

I was faced with the awful, terrible choice of which part of Abby I wanted to touch first. My gaze roamed freely over her soft, delicate curves, a treat I wasn’t allowed to indulge in since her accident. After our post lotion explosion shower, I’d kept my gaze respectable, not to scare her. She saw how much I desired her, how quickly she brought me to orgasm from the craving, the torture of her proximity, her near nakedness, how anxious I was to be intimate with her.

“Is this a test?”

Biting her lower lip, her cheeks puffed out with a smile, she shook her head, the giddy excitement radiating off her.

I brushed my fingertips over her stomach, her muscles contracting pleasurably. Dragging my fingers around, I spanned her ribcage, reaching around to the back. I watched the pleasure of it register on her beautiful face, her eyelids hooded, her lips parted with a small exhale and pink tinted along her cheekbones. Encouraged I brought her closer to stand between my parted thighs and feet.

Abby towered over me, so I tilted my head back to keep her stare. Her right hand went from my hair to curl around the back of my neck. Stealing all rational thought, she kissed me, a full bodied, fervent press of her lips on mine, her mouth on mine. When she stopped, through her dazed expression, she said, “That’s for you. From Abby.”

Tingling tickled through me, her giddiness catching on within my pores. Abby kissed me. This Abby kissed me. My Abby kissed me. It wasn’t the first time she initiated a kiss between us since the accident, but this felt new, almost a wild abandon, a breaking free of chains that bound her.

We smiled wider for each other at her joke. Taking up the momentum, I lifted her gently to guide her into my lap. She straddled my legs and took her place, where she belonged, taking direction as well as I did. Though I wasn’t sure which one of us was the more dominant, which one was leading and which one was following. I pulled her into my lap, and a smug expression displayed in her half smile like her envisioned plan fell into place.

She wasn’t done. She shifted in my lap, almost a thrust of her hips against me – or wishful thinking on my part. I couldn’t be sure. “I’m gonna tell you a thing,” she intoned. “You’re gonna hear the thing and you’re gonna  _listen_  to the thing.”

“From you or Abby?”

Her hand slipped around to the front of my throat almost as if to choke me, but she didn’t squeeze. She wanted to make sure I was focused on her and her words, whatever the thing was.

“Thomas, this is the thing. My mum taught me right. She loved my dad with everything she had to give and more. I wanted that all my life,  _in my life_  – grew up surrounded by two people devoted to each other, to be the best people, parents, couple they could be. They taught me how to love, leading by example.”

Her hand drifted down my neck to play with the collar of my shirt. A serene sort of trance came over her as she strolled down memory lane, a pastime she rarely afforded herself because of the sadness that lived there. “Mum and dad loved each other, and I came along as a surprise later on. They’d tried to get pregnant for years and they had almost given up hope when mum found out. Her 36th birthday. Then how they tried to give me a sibling, from what mum told me later…” She giggled a bit with the next part of her story, “Little Abby got curious why all the other kids at school had a brother or sister. But they loved me. They were each other’s worlds and I was theirs together.”

Her head tilted to the side as she examined the stitching of my shirt. “Mum was proud to be married to my dad. She’d tell me,  _‘You wait for him, you wait for the right one to come along like I did. He’s out there looking for you. You find your one, Abby. He won’t be perfect, but he’ll be perfect for you,’_  she’d tell me.” Abby slipped from an imitation of her mum, or what I assumed was her mum’s voice, from the sterner, deeper tone back to my beloved.

Then her eyes lifted back to mine, returning to the immediate concern and what had prompted all of this. “Let me tell you, Thomas. I’m a creature of habit, and sleeping around may increase my odds of finding my one, but I’d rather stick with one at a time. It’s always suited me best, and I don’t plan on changing.” She went from inwardly reflective talking about her mum to vehemently loyal, and to her it was all connected.

I should’ve seen that more than anything else, her loyalty. The time we spent together should’ve been enough for me. She’d go out of her way to be with me, to spend time with me, to share some intimacy with me. Even when she was dropping off her feet from exhaustion, too shattered to eat a meal, she would come if I asked. When I asked her to be there for me, when I needed her sympathy and tenderness in my weaker moments, she was there, washing and tending to my chapped hands.

To cap off her point, she laid a kiss on my lips, a small tentative one. “This isn’t your fault, Tom. I know you like to take responsibility for so much – you did with me – and be the greatest man, the savior. To me, you are, but you cannot –  _hear me_  – you cannot take the burden of someone else’s choice. Those others may have left you because of something you did – or maybe,  _maybe_  it’s someone else’s issue all together.”

In all the years I’d been holding onto the anger and the blame for these women leaving me, at no point did a friend of family member reason with me the way that Abby did. Mum, bless her, always sided with her son, even if my logic was flawed, her need to make me better outshining the need to talk things out at any great length. My mother wanted to see me out of pain and suffering, so she wouldn’t dwell on why I wasn’t with these women anymore. All she knew was that they hurt me, and that was unacceptable for her.

My buddies after finding out another of my relationships failed always brushed it off without discussing the details or dissecting it. I’d told them my ex-girlfriends cheated, and they’d say, ‘Fuck em’ and order another round for me.

Abby, in her own special way, was telling me what Luke had been saying all these years.  _‘You need to get over yourself.’_  The answer lurked outside myself. I had to get over myself as being the wronged party and the one fucking affections over, since I hadn’t been the one to stray.

_Kelly chose someone else over me._

_Rose chose many others over me._

They laid the blame on me as a too busy workaholic, not around enough, not affectionate enough and whatever else they could to make themselves feel better about their mistakes.

“I’m not doing anything to chase you away from me.” I said it quietly as a statement of fact, and looked for confirmation and validation from Abby.

A sly smile pulled at her lips as she shook her head. “You’re not.”

Of course, Abby was a creature of habit. She didn’t like change, preferring stable and reliability over inconstant. That’s part of the reason we got on so well from the beginning. I gave her a foundation and support that she could rely on, not in my schedule but in my attention on her.

After several beats, letting the news sink in, absorbing it into my brain, I said, “I’m so sorry, Abby. I should’ve told you sooner. But I never wanted you to see my failures, my flaws, and the thing that would lessen me in your eyes, what I’m not good at cultivating or nurturing—”

Calmly, without judgment, she replied, “Two busted relationships because these women chose to do isn’t your failure or your flaw.”

“I couldn’t keep them from straying.”

“Tom?”

I took notice immediately, her tone turned shy again, soft, muddled, all in the pronunciation of my name. Her hands were folded together in her lap, at least as much as they could be with her cast. Introverted and withdrawn, she looked perplexed. “What is it, love?”

She stole a glance at my face before playing with a jagged bit of her cast. “You said that Henry and I have always had a bond…”

“I did.” Preparing for another surge of jealousy, I forced myself to stay collected and not lose my head over Henry as the center of our conversation.

“What about our bond? Aren’t we special? Don’t we have something uniquely us?” A longing for some connection with me was at the heart of her question.

Through all my doubts and insecurities, I’d thrown our relationship in the shade, and she was worried. The idea that my insecurities passed onto her destroyed me. Abby was always so sure of her feelings for me and didn’t misrepresent herself. I couldn’t have her doubt what we had. “Of course we do, Abigail.”

“Then,” she looked me dead in the eye almost nose to nose. “I’m gonna ask you something. Maybe you’ve been asked this before… maybe not… but I’ll put this to you.”

She took a deep centering breath, her tone turning more serious. “When I didn’t know any better, waking up in hospital missing at least two years of my life, you asked me to trust in you. I put my faith and trust in you. I’m going to ask the same of you now. Can you do the same for me? Can you let me try to convince you that there are women that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is a flashback, all in italics to make it different. This takes place during the Upstaged series. As a reminder, this can be read independently from Tom and Abby's original story.

_Despite the fact that I was blessed to be born into a family of modest wealth and privilege, my mother, having come from theatre herself, taught me the value of frugality. She taught my sisters and me exactly how far to stretch a budget, live well within our means and use practical items for as long as possible. Each of us wore clothes for years, although Emma, my younger sister, had an affinity for shoes._

_While Emma enjoyed her heels, my older sister Sarah was a journalist and couldn’t get enough stationary, notebooks, pens, and notecards. My personal weakness had always been books, literature, stories, poetry, and language. I couldn’t walk out of a bookstore without three books._

_However my careful consideration for clothes didn’t translate to my costumes or any costumes to be exact. I was a bull in a china shop and had the worst luck when it came to costumes. I could ruin a pair of trousers by looking at them, or if I attended a performance as a member of the audience, someone would undoubtedly split a seam. It wasn’t on purpose, I just had dumb, stupid luck with costumes._

_My bad luck met with Abby’s dress, opening night. Just before act two, we were making our way on stage for the top of the act, and I stepped on the hem of her dress. Completely unintentional, but the damage was done. The fabric split and a couple of buttons at her waist and up her back popped off. Luckily, Abby was able to find the buttons in the dark and hid them in her bra for the remainder of the show for Marisol to repair._

_Act two mostly went off without a hitch, with my hand at the small of her back to cover the gaping hole I created with my heavy footfalls and giant feet. I spent the night after curtain call and the next day apologizing to both Abby and Marisol for the mistake and ended up buying both of them flowers to ease my guilt._

_Marisol spent a day repairing the dress with new fasteners to replace the buttons. The fabric was fragile and couldn’t hold the buttons anymore. I made the most of getting Abby naked, like I always did, and would’ve done whether I damaged her dress or not._

_“Tom, I have something for you,” my petite costar whispered to me in the wings. We were in places for the top of act two of the show, one of our last performances, waiting for the stage manager to call the cue for house down, so we could take the stage in the dark._

_Abby rarely spoke during intermission or backstage, afraid that she’d miss her cue or lose her focus on the show itself. She always took a few quiet moments before the show and before the second act to center herself, calm her nerves and focus on the obstacle of the portrayal ahead. She carried the play, Sarah’s family life as the central plot, with silent strength. She was so good that I looked forward to each and every performance with her. She was reactive and gave so much for me to play off of._

_All that, and I got to see her naked every night._

_I looked down into her upturned face, just making out her features in the dim light of the wings. Miraculously, my professional integrity remained fully in place and I didn’t take her right then and there, my sexual appetite for her always ravenous. By divine intervention, Abby and I’d kept our affair secret from our coworkers for the past seven weeks, and I kind of really fancied having this girl all to myself. Our cast mates had seen us grow close, naturally most costars do after spending so much time together, but our affair was between us._

_Judging the earnest expression on her face, this was costar speak, not another flirty offer of sexual favors. In our time together, we’d struck a delicate balance between our working personas and our sexual relationship._

_“What is it, love?” I asked her under my breath._

_She glanced around on both sides, sizing up how private and secluded we were. “We don’t have much time,” she muttered, and I couldn’t tell if she meant before we became Sarah and Michael or the remainder of the run. “But I- well, I wanted to… to thank you.” She rolled her eyes, her choice of words not quite what she was searching for. It’s a very strange thing to thank the person… “It’s been brilliant working with you, and I couldn’t dream of a better costar, even if you fluster the hell out of me sometimes,” she grinned._

_I matched her smile with one of my own. She was endearing, as much as I didn’t want to acknowledge it, I was growing fond of her. “No need to thank me, Abigail. It’s been an absolute pleasure.” Unashamed of the double meaning, I winked._

_Even in the muted lighting and atmosphere, my lover blushed that lovely shade of pink that drew me to her from the start. “I have something for you,” she said as she dug her hand into the cup of her bra beneath her costume. In a way of explanation at the lifted eyebrow I gave her, she said, “No pockets on a dress…”_

_Smirking, I offered, “I could go in there and retrieve whatever you’re searching for.” I appraised the situation and the swell of her breasts, savoring the memory of their taste and the feel of them in my hands._

_“You’ll come back with a very different gift, Hiddleston.”_

_I chuckled. “I may not come back, but we’ll both enjoy the hell out of it.”_

_“Behave.” She produced whatever it was she’d hidden in her costume, and her hand made a reappearance._

_“I like when I don’t, and you do too, my darling Abigail.”_

_She sighed for effect, attempting to regain control of what she wanted to say. “Making my West End debut with you- in my wildest imagination couldn’t have hoped for anyone more talented or gifted. Truly a dream come true for me. I never thought I’d amount to much of anything… when…when… when I came to London…”_

_I understood her hesitancy after a conversation that I had with Juliette earlier that week. The closest friend that I knew my lover had, Juliette let it slip that Abby ran away from her home after the last of her family died. I kicked myself for being the arse and not knowing anything about the girl that I shared my bed with every night._

_“But this—“ she gestured around her. “This has been enormous for me. You didn’t have anything to do with casting me beside you, but you trusted me as a scene partner. An actor of your…” she shook her head as the lights in the house flickered signaling the start of act two._

_Her sincerest words hit me in my heart. Pushing the feeling away, I tried to put her firmly in the fangirl compartment of my head. It was no secret that Abby knew my work before I arrived for our first table read for this play, and she was smitten with me before I stepped through the door. Her blushing and running away charmed me right into her dressing room to shag her. But, Abby unwittingly, unknowingly clawed out of the fangirl box each time I placed her in there, she grew into something dearer, a friend, a confidant, a peer._

_“Tom,” she said, her tone continuing its resonance in finality. “I’m grateful, and I wanted to give you something as a sign of that. I bribed wardrobe to give you this… to keep.”_

_Abby took my hand, pressed a flat circular object, no bigger than a 20p coin, into my palm and closed my fingers around it. She looked up at me again and said, “Whatever happens from here, thank you.” She turned towards the stage as the lights flashed once more._

_Looking back over the past seven weeks, I realized that Abby was always expecting me to chuck her off once I had my fill. It seemed that she expected that the close of our show was our expiration date, the end of whatever we were playing at. She was finding her closure for this thing._

_To be fair, Abby and I never defined what we were, but it was outrageously fun, passionate, and didn’t need a label. We had compatible body parts and matching sex drives, and we fucked so well. If I’m honest, I never intended things to continue for this long, but now that I’d touched her, I’d never get enough of her and I wasn’t going to let her walk away. I wanted to keep her, to continue having her as a lover and as a friend._

_She was becoming a constant companion in my flat and I didn’t mind it. After living alone since I graduated uni and loving every second of my freedom, I liked having Abby at my place._

_I knew what the gift was without looking at it, and the memory of the thing brought a smile to my face, another one, a brighter one. I tucked the small memento into my trouser pocket. Throwing every last reservation I had about the other cast and crew members seeing us, I wrapped my arms around her middle and pulled her back against me. I kissed the crown of her head and then her temple to dip against her ear to whisper to her. The lights went out before I could assure her that although our professional relationship was coming to a close, our personal one could go on._

_Abby extricated herself from my arms, but I took hold of her hand in the dark as we found our mark for the party scene at the top of the act. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and she answered with one of her own. The stage lights came up and the moment disappeared as quickly as it had come. I placed my hand at the small of her back both in character and as Tom to let her know that I appreciated her reminiscent gift._

_*_

_Mother Nature wasn’t a friend to me that Saturday at 5pm. I could count on the rain coming when I performed in London for the closing of my plays. It happened when I did Ivanov, Othello, Cymbeline, and even Romeo and Juliet when I was at school. Whatever my closing weekend, Mother Nature saw fit to drench London in torrential rain. Except my last weekend performing beside Abby, the weather was clear and warm, a typical July day._

_“You ready for this, Tom?” Derek asked jovially, slapping me on the back. He handed me a sharpie for autographs._

_“Yeah, yeah… about how many today?” Silently I cursed my luck that the rain wasn’t outside the door. Abby would go out for dinner between performances with Juliette as she normally did. She only stayed in if it was raining._

_“’Bout fifty or so, counted up to forty before I came in to get you. You tell me when you’ve had enough and I’ll shut down the line,” he said falling in step with me to the door at the front of the theatre. I enjoyed greeting fans at the stage door, put faces to some of the audience that I shared time with. Today’s crowd were especially energetic, and I fed off the high of an excellent performance._

_“Did Abigail leave already? The rest of the cast?” I’ll admit my question wasn’t entirely about crowd maintenance. Some of the cast, including the principal characters, could manage the line. Fans didn’t always stay for me, and if others had left before me, they could’ve lessened the line for me._

_“Abby’s just there,” he pointed across the street. “Most everyone’s been through, they’re waiting on you.” Derek, the fan wrangler, had the people lined up along the brick wall when I exited the building with him following close behind me._

_Abigail stood with Juliette and a couple of young girls, talking animatedly. Abby’s gaze met mine from across the street, her heart not in the conversation with the others. We held each other’s eyes for an extended moment, and I tilted my head back into the theatre, subtle enough that no one else would pick up on it. Abby broke eye contract briefly, trying to decide if she wanted dinner or to spend some time with me. Her eyes followed the queue waiting to meet me quickly before finding my eyes again. She nodded, and engaged herself back in her conversation to make her excuses._

_The sense of urgency to get through that line of people to be with Abby tried my patience, but I didn’t show it. I gave everyone what they wanted though, an autograph, a hug, or a photograph. I gave everyone equal attention, making them laugh, answering questions, smiling and being friendly. Out of the corner of my eye, Abby separated from Juliette and the others and walked up Earlham towards the Seven Dials pillar. She would walk around to the back of the theatre and duck in privately. She’d done it before to be with me between shows._

_In my experience in theatre, towards the end of the run of any show, whether it be performed for a fortnight or two months or two years, actors, managers and even house staffers relax. The atmosphere tends to be lighthearted, friendlier and trusting. The routine without incident lends itself to an attitude of arrogance._

_With these people, I’ve survived flubbed lines, missed cues, misplaced props, broken set pieces, wardrobe malfunctions, unreceptive audiences and countless backstage mishaps. We’ve weathered the accidents and improved in character and we’ve gotten through it together, as one family._

_I let me guard down a bit, during the last weekend of my performance alongside my delectable costar. During rehearsals and performing the show, Abigail and I carried on a torrid relationship that no other person knew about. We’d had sex on stage, backstage, both dressing rooms, in the stalls, in the shower in my dressing room, against a sink in the men’s room on the 2 nd floor, and by some act of pure adventure and recklessness, on the catwalk above the stage._

_She was onstage waiting for me when I got free of the crowd outside. I made sure that Derek left, but I didn’t check for anyone else before I went to her. Her body beckoned me like a homing device and I wanted to be safely inside. My lovely costar welcomed me into her arms, eager to please me, eager to feel me._

_“Anyone else around?” I asked in a whisper against her cheek._

_She shook her head, pressing her body against me, her lips seeking mine, but we didn’t double check that everyone was gone to dinner. Her fingers clutched at my hair making it infinitely clear that I was not to go anywhere but where she wanted. The need she displayed only sparked my desire for her._

_As the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My intention, my purpose for gesturing her to join me back in the theatre was meant to clear up the assumption that Abby had about us that we were over with the run of our play. I wasn’t done with her, and with her hands frantically unbuckling my belt, I could tell she wasn’t done with me yet either._

_When her hand grazed over the bulge in my jeans my thought for talking disappeared. I couldn’t form an intelligent thing to say with her hand caressing me that way. Primal possession took over, and I started walking her backwards in the general direction of my dressing room. Our lips wouldn’t separate for longer than a breath or two, before we were kissing each other fully._

_The pair of us bumped into a wall, and lost some time to grope each other in the wings of the theatre. I heaved the aroused woman up into my arms to carry her through to my dressing room for what privacy we could find. I closed the door with my foot to lay her on the only available surface in the room, my makeup table._

_Through bites and nips of our lips, she demanded, “Fuck me, Tom. Fuck me.” Her hands resumed their tireless but sloppy task of relieving me of my trousers. Her hands trembled, making the task more difficult for her. Maybe the shaking came from heightened arousal, maybe from anxiousness, maybe from the idea of getting caught, maybe the talk we started to have earlier._

_Lifting her arms over her head, I trapped her hands with one of mine. I looked into her flushed face, searching for a clue into her mindset, why she was so antsy. She was rarely so forward with me. I didn’t mind, only knew that I’d be in for some attitude later if I continued without quieting the emotional being. I’d learned that early on with her._

_Abby didn’t need a lot of talking, just a few words to recognize her feelings, and reassure her that I was with her. Slowing things down, I said lowly, “Wrap your legs around me, Abigail.”_

_She obeyed at once, her muscles pulling me into her. I draped my body over hers on the tabletop, grinding my erection to her core, creating a whimper of excitement in her chest. “Trust me, Abigail.”_

_She froze for a beat before nodding her consent. I lifted her t-shirt with my free hand to expose her breasts, nearly begging for my mouth. I was just the man for that job, but I had fears to squash before she’d let go enough to enjoy our rendezvous._

_From my pocket, I brought out the gift she’d given me during the performance. I tucked the tin button into the cup of her bra where she hid it before. “That belongs to you.” Cupping that satin covered breast, I squeezed gently, watching her face. “You need that,” I insisted with a slight nod. I moved my hand from her breast to between her legs and pressed against her sex. “As much as you need this.”_

_She inhaled sharply, her hips thrusting up into my touch. My name fell from her bruised lips in an almost-sigh, and she was the sexiest woman I ever had under me. There was no fear in her eyes, no apprehension that I had her pinned to the table, only trust and… tenderness?_

_“Abby,” I breathed against her neck when pressed my lips into the smooth, heated skin. “Abby… this,” I tucked my hand into her jeans and knickers to find her wet and wanting. “I want you to know… this—“_

_“Tom!” A deep voice and a loud knock on my dressing room door interrupted the delicate situation. “Tom! Brought dinner for you, mate.”_

_“Fuck,” I cursed silently with Abby wriggling to get free of me. I released her and helped her stand up again, righting her clothes as quickly as possible._

_“Give me a minute, Luke.” I said towards the door._

_Abby gave me a look of incredulity, shocked that I would acknowledge or open the door with the state we were in. I lifted my eyebrows to her to question what else I could do. I motioned for her to hide behind a partition that we kept up from privacy during quick changes. It saved precious moments so the door didn’t have to be opened or closed during performances._

_“Tom! You hungry, mate?”_

_“Yeah, one more second…”_

_I led Abby behind the partition, apologizing silently, motioning to grant me a minute or two to get free of this. I kissed her to keep her quiet and appease her a bit. I bid her to stay quiet until I could get rid of my publicist with the worst timing._


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues where the last chapter left off, in the flashback... and then circles back to their present. Flashback is in italics.

_“Did you forget I was coming by today?” Luke asked, entering my dressing when I opened the door._

_Through clenched teeth, I muttered, “It slipped my mind, yeah.” I rearranged my shirt to cover the telltale signs that I was very much engaged in another activity that had little to do with my career and very much to do with my very (currently) active sex life. Guiltily I shifted my gaze towards the partition to make absolutely sure the woman of my desire was concealed behind. I did it for her, hid her away to protect her dignity._

_Abby was such a shy little thing around new people, and our whole affair was based on my need to make her feel comfortable with me. She unlocked Sarah, my character’s wife in the play we costarred, when she finally decided not to be shy with me. I could only guess that she was blushing brighter than a rose in full bloom at being caught with my hand in her knickers, her t-shirt hiked up her body and her passionate pleas for me to fuck her spilling from her mouth unbidden._

_An aromatic smell of piping hot fish finger sandwiches filled my dressing room and took my focus away from the hidden woman. “Brought dinner so you don’t have to go out,” my publicist dropped what I assumed to be the delicious smelling sack of food on my table and turned to me. “Won’t keep you for long, just needed to run somethings for you to do after tomorrow, when the show’s done.”_

_I agreed, positioning myself to block Abby’s hiding place. “Sure, what have you got for me?”_

_Luke dropped a stack of papers on the table and announced, “Reading material. Invitations, notices, emails and appearances you could potentially make once you’ve finished the run here. Nothing urgent, but soon.”_

_I nodded, logging it in my memory to review on Monday when the show was done and the hangover from the cast party passed._

_“Then, call Jarmusch. The man’s in New York and has been trying to get you.”_

_“We’ve been trying to catch each other, but the time difference and my schedule are making it impossible. Did Fassbender back out for that other project? Did you talk to Jim?” I couldn’t help but fell a little hopeful. I wanted to work with him and Tilda, and I’d been in touch with Jim a few times about possibly stepping in if Michael signed a different contract._

_“Jim didn’t tell me, only that he wanted to speak with you.”_

_“I’ll call him Monday,” committing that to memory as well._

_“I won’t keep you, mate, and I’ll email you a reminder of all this. I have a potential calendar, so I’ll send that along,” he said waving his fingers like the wizard he was. “I’ll leave you to dinner and…” he trailed off and made his way to the door. “If you need help tomorrow, text me, yeah?”_

_“Absolutely. Thanks, Luke.” I followed him to the door, as eager for him to leave as he seemed keen to. We shook hands and he turned on his heal, heading for the back stairs to exit the theatre. I clicked the door behind him, locking the door behind me, and crossing back round to the partition._

_Retrieving the shy blond annoyed actress from beyond the barrier came much easier than I thought it would be. However getting her to stay when she’d been close to being caught and humiliated with her costar became a monumental task. No amount of kissing or touching her would make her relax again, and she certainly wasn’t about to let us pick up where we left off._

_I took her hands and led her out by backing up, step by step. She fought it, wanting to stay hidden or run away from me. I felt that much in her touch. “Don’t be cross with me, Abby.”_

_Her gaze peered around to the locked door, expecting Luke to be there to catch her. The trepidation slowed her movements to a snail’s pace. “I was made to hide,” she griped sternly, barely above a whisper._

_Almost apologetically, I said, “I forgot he was coming, but he’s gone now.”_

_She pulled her hands from mine, rubbing them on her jeans in a nervous gesture. “I should go.” Her steps faltered not because she didn’t want to make a mad dash escape, but fearing she’d get caught backstage or catch up to Luke on the way out._

_“Abby, you don’t have to go. Just stay.”_

_“I had plans, I should’ve kept them.” She refused to look me in the eye. “I really should go.” Her body was tense and uncomfortable, and I’d lost some ground with her. I didn’t quite understand it. I hid her away to protect her dignity and reputation._

_“Abby, don’t go,” I told her, as she looked on the verge of tears and running to hide from me, from the world. This secret affair was difficult to maintain and I could read Abby’s body language like a book. She liked me, she liked what we had, even if it wasn’t her ideal situation. “Abby, look at me.”_

_Collecting the last of her courage after nearly being caught with my hand in her knickers, she turned her face up to mine. The battle was raging in her eyes, the sensitive creature looking for a little reprieve from the awkward situation I’d put her in. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes, and confusion made her arms ridged under my hands as I smoothed them down to her hands. She pulled her hands from mine again, resisting me._

_Petting my hand down her hair instead, the fear fell away a little big. She leaned into the touch, the slow descent along the tresses of her hair. “You don’t have to go and hide, love. It’s almost over and we won’t have to hide anymore.”_

_“I-I-I… can’t…” Her confidence with me was rocked off kilter by the unsuspecting publicist._

_I let my hand pet down her hair again, in a soothing comforting motion and caught a glimpse of the corners turning upwards. She liked the way I touched her. “You can, Abby. Just don’t go. Stay. Have some dinner with me.”_

_She toed her shoe on the floor, trying to find her way through the barrage of emotions she was feeling._

_“I’m sure there’s enough for both of us, and you won’t have to eat alone or go out. I stepped all over your plans for dinner, let me make it up to you.” Anything I could do to taper her unease was worth the effort._

_Abby wasn’t used to a physical relationship without the emotional connection. She was inexperienced with sexual experimentation, and sex for her was an expression of deeper emotions. I’d met with one of her fits when her expectations weren’t met and she admitted that she didn’t know what we were._

_I didn’t come out and say that I only wanted her for sex, because it would’ve been a lie. At that point, I liked her more than a fantastic lay, but I also couldn’t meet her expectations if she wanted a loving committed relationship. My career was on an upswing, and I devoted all my energy and focus on riding that uphill trajectory. I’d worked all my life to get to this, so many directors calling to fit me into their schedule, and offering to work around mine. I couldn’t risk anything holding me back._

_But nights with Abby were so easy. She had a great sense of humor and she made me feel good about myself. She made me feel the man, and not just in the bedroom. There was more to it than that. She made me feel accomplished and powerful, strong, masculine._

_Simple phrases: ‘I think you could’ve played the role.’_

_‘Dinner was even better than last night.’_

_‘Thank you for helping me pick a new kettle’_

_‘Tom, you look exceptionally handsome today.’_

_In just a few words and her honest delivery, she made me the greatest man in the world. For her, I was, in those first few weeks. All my attention was focused on her and pulling her out of her hiding hole._

_But she also knew that we were having fun, she loved drinking with me, guessing the who-dun-it in mystery films and debating with me over which disaster movie was superior, Armageddon or Deep Impact._

_Taking a chance that she wouldn’t try to slip away, I went to the bag of food. “There are two!” I said, pulling the sandwiches from the bag that Luke deposited. The mouth-watering smell of warm food intensified in the room. “I think that means you have to say, love. Can’t eat all this on my own.”_

_Unsure and hesitant, she took a step closer, and then another, and then one more. “It smell really, really good, Tom.”_

_I grinned at the hungry woman and motioned for her to take a seat, which she did by pulling up a folding chair to the makeup table next to the one near me. “At least I can bribe you with food,” I commented, handing her one of the foiled wraps. “I’ll take note of that.”_

_“You got me to stay this time, but I may not let you back into my knickers.”_

_“Challenge accepted, my little sex kitten.”_

_She gave me a sly look, and she was ready for the game to commence._

_After taking a bite of the best fish sandwich London had to offer, a fish fillet in a brioche bun covered in tartare sauce, I proceeded to break down Abby’s defenses, the ones that made her afraid and confused. “This was a great oppor-tuna-ty for dinner.”_

_She leveled her gaze on me skeptically, trying not to laugh, “Don’t be so koi, Hiddleston.”_

_I absolutely adored her puns and it was just another reason she was so easy to be around. “That’s fintastic, Abby. Any fin is possible.”_

_“Don’t cheat! That’s the same pun! You should dolphin… ately… scale it back,” she tripped over her words a little._

_“Let minnow when I do,” I winked at her, enjoying the banter._

_“You’re a pain in the bass, Hiddleston.”_

_I quickly abandoned my food on the tabletop and chuckled, “This scampi happening!”_

_Abby was giggling like mad and I pulled her into my lap. Her eyebrow shot up her forehead in question at the abrupt change in location. She didn’t fight it, but she was still on the fence about being so close to me while still in the theatre. She shot a glance at the door._

_“Abby, I’m going to tell you something,” I said, sobering some to talk to her. “I need you to mullet over a bit.”_

_Nodding, she giggled again at the pun, and it encouraged me to go for one more, even though this was about our future. I needed to clear up her doubt and reestablish my place with her, the original intention for summoning her back into the theatre._

_“I have an urchin need to have you in my bed tonight ad every night for the foreseeable future. Do you understand me?”_

_She stopped all giggling and all movement, and just stared at me. A few moments passed and then she nodded._

_“My desire for you doesn’t have an expiration date, or closing date. This is an open-ended run.”_

_She whispered, “Okay.”_

_I gave her another option just to be sure that I’d been reading her right. “Do you want to end this?”_

_She shook her head._

_“Say it, Abigail. Tell me that you’re alright.” I couldn’t have her shutting down on me and answering on automatic._

_“I don’t want this to end, Tom. I liked working with you, and I liked… playing with you?”_

_We laughed together and that erased the tension from the room. “Cheeky girl… my little minx.” That was the first and last conversation we had about our arrangement until Henry came along._

_Just before curtain that night when I was using the powder to keep the sweat to a minimum under the sweltering heat of the stage lights, I moved one of my makeup bottles to clear a spot for the tub of powder. I found the tin button that Abby gave me and I tried to give back to her. She’d hidden it for me to keep._

*

A caress of her fingers from my temple to just below my ear. A small tilt of her head. Abby’s eyes zeroed in on my lips, and I felt trapped in space and time. My girl was hypnotic, and she forced every moment to the fullest.

All I could feel was the heat and weight of her upon my lap, her soft flesh embracing me. My fingers were flirting with the waistband of her knickers at the small of her back, looking for an invitation to dip within. She was so close that I almost saw a blurry vision of her, and if all went as it should and I put my psychological baggage in the bin, I’d get even closer. I wanted to trust her and lover her and keep her.

“I had a flash or a memory… a  _something_  today… with Emma… at lunch… the smell of it…” In an Abby type way, she was laying all her cards on the table, opening herself up, presenting her case as trustworthy girlfriend.

“Emma told me,” I responded softly, my eyes rising from her lips to her eyes. I thought she would kiss me again, craving and anticipating the intimacy of our honest talk, the truth that I was jealous and finally told her about my past.

Her face fell. Some of the air in her balloon whistled away and she deflated some.

“Nothing specific, baby. Only that you had one. You can tell me.”

She perked back up, not quite all the way, but enough to see her making her case again. “Tom,” her hand stroked down my face again, reminiscent of when we were nothing more than lovers. Her eyes raked over my features, each freckle, each scar, almost each pore and committed every line and imperfection to memory. “Emma… she made me, she inspired a memory – with lunch,” her voice hiked up at the end, resembling a question. “It’s not clear why or how… or even what was going on in the memory, but it was about you.”

The twinkle in her eyes sparkled with her excitement of telling me. She wanted me to know that it was specifically about me. She’d been so upset when her last flash of memory hadn’t been about us, but our characters. This seemed to animate her in a quiet way. Setting aside the slight deterrent of Henry and my past, Abby wanted to celebrate her small victory with me.

“The smell of the sandwich, a flash came so… but it was about you, Tom. You and me. I don’t know- can’t quite get the context, it’s just there, but I can’t get there.” She was so calm about this bit of her memory just out of reach, the frustrating inaccessibility of it, but it didn’t upset her this time. “The smell, it was so familiar. I remember watching you… we were having a meal together… eating, it was just us. And I liked you, I felt that, how much I liked you. A longing sort of feeling. I was watching you, liking you and longing for something…”

My fingers threaded in her hair, bringing her into me, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. “My Abigail. I love that you remembered me.” I closed my eyes, and felt the relief of her remembering something, anything, and that she liked me. Through all these weeks of earning her trust back and laying down my burden, the freedom of being with her burst from me. This was what I’d been so patiently waiting for.

I never gave Abby enough credit, and my relationship with her hung in the balance. She was shrewdly emotionally mature, developed from experiencing so much tragedy in her life. She dug herself out of the depression of losing her home, her parents, her family, her friends, and her familiar surroundings. It took time and perseverance, but she worked through the grief and became a chipper girl.

She locked herself away in self-defense, giving herself a chance to find her place in the world, the tiny niche she carved out for herself. Abby lived in a tiny flat near Baron’s Court, barely more than a studio, but it worked for her. She’d decorated in shades of peach, varying degrees to keep her life bright. Comedy and tragedy masks were the focal point of every room including the bathroom. Her love of acting saved her from sinking any further into the darkness of loss.

For me, acting was an extension of the written word, literature, poetry and verse all reflecting the human condition. For Abby, theatre was about emotions, feelings, and touching every part of the soul and knowing how to translate that. Acting was both an escape and a coping mechanism for her. In that way, she was infinitely wiser than I.

My hand traveled that familiar path down her hair. “Abigail,” I mused quietly, awed by the question she posed to me a few minutes ago: ‘I’m going to ask the same of you now. Can you do the same for me? Can you let me try to convince you that there are women that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated?’

She turned the tables on me in such a way that she opened my eyes to all the destruction and negativity I’d been hoarding away. Her ability to shine the light on it didn’t cure me, not by a long shot, but showing me that she still care after learning about it gave me hope.

Abby still fancied me after learning that I’d kept something from her. She asked me for another chance and she fought for me!

“My sweet Abigail,” I said stroking her hair. “How do you do that? How do you make me feel stronger with my flaws?”

She shrugged, her brilliant smile lighting up the darkening bedroom. “Abby thinks you’re interesting.”

I laughed at her referring to herself in the third person again. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for being you.”

“You don’t get off the hook that easily, Hiddleston. Abby asked you a question. Several actually. She expects an answer.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that begins with a flashback, all in italics. This sheds some light on where Tom and Abby are and where they were, and how this effects how they proceed.

_Before I realized what I was doing and where my fingers were going, Abby answered her mobile after I’d easily found her number on speed dial. A surprised but jubilant “Tom!” sounded from my phone. I had an addiction for this woman saying my name that I didn’t want to kick, and it didn’t matter how she said it, only that she did, often._

_“Abby, you alright, love?”_

_“Yes, fine…” Her breath inhaled in an anxious wheeze, and then she giggled a little. “I’m… um… well, I’m- I’m not cooking…” she joked nervously as a way to fill the silence when I didn’t say anything more straightaway._

_I wasn’t sure why I called her, but I wasn’t sorry I had, if only to hear my name again. “Does that take long, that not cooking thing?”_

_She giggled again. “Not rightly sure. Definitely less than a decade but more than a minute.”_

_“As long as you’ve got it narrowed down…”_

_“I have. It’s a huge undertaking to accomplish nothing at all.”_

_She was adorable and alluring all at the same time. “Am I interrupting, Abby? Wouldn’t want to disturb that accomplishment.”_

_“I can multitask.”_

_“How long will you be at that?”_

_“Hard to say. I’ve passed the minute stage- can’t quite nail down the not doing of things.”_

_“I just got exciting news. Come over.”_

_“Oh? Um… I can. How exciting?”_

_“Better than landing Man #4 in a B type movie, but not as good as that not cooking thing that you’re doing,” I told her with a smile on my face and in my voice._

_“Obviously. Not many can do this like I can, Hiddleston.”_

_“I wouldn’t think of doubting it.”_

_“So… when did you want… me- to come round?” Why did she sound so sheepish when it came to our meeting up outside the theatre? Our show ended only one day ago, and I’d only left her flat a few hours ago._

_I’d never really asked her to come over via a phone call. I usually sent her a text and she’d come. Phone calls were rare between us, and I was always the one to initiate it._

_“Whenever you can break free of nothing at all.”_

_She exclaimed, “Hey, look, I’m done!”_

_“What are the odds? I’ve got excellent timing.”_

_A tsk. “Another rich opportunity to pat yourself on the back there, huh, Hiddleston?”_

_“Gotta seize it when it comes up.”_

_“What else is coming up?” Titillating, flirty Abigail._

_“I’ll show you when you get here, little minx.”_

_Abby arrived within an hour of my call, and even though I’d only left her a few hours ago, she looked incredible. Rested, fresh, and relaxed, and she carried that outrageously attractive quality of innocence. Her hair hung loose and slightly damp from her very recent shower. She wore eyeliner and mascara, leaving her cheeks and lips natural. The casual ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt suited her best when out and about, but I liked her in one of my t-shirts and nothing more._

_The girl always smelled divine, but the freshly washed peach scent only made me want to cradle her up without letting go for hours._

_Bending and leaning into her smaller frame, I pulled her into a hug, coiling my arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around my neck, hiking up on her tippy toes. She was all softness and curves, and as much as I wanted to march her down the hallway to my bedroom, it felt amazingly comforting just to hold her, feel her breathe, feel her vitality and her energy against me. Fighting my baser instincts, I refrained from my norm and didn't take her to bed._

_While still in my arms, she asked, “What’s your news, Hiddleston?”_

_Before I released her, my mouth found hers in an anxious but unhurried kiss. I sunk into her, my tongue in her mouth, my hand against her cheek, and she absorbed all I gave her, feeding everything back to me. The movement of it, the relaxed speed of it, the mood, all synced together to create a symbiotic give and take in equal measures, back and forth. She ran her tongue along mine, and then I tilted my head in the other direction and massaged hers with mine._

_But it was just a kiss, a delicious, mind-numbing show of… I couldn't say. I didn't have a name for this tie, this link, this whatever it was. I wanted to kiss her, so I kissed her thoroughly, and it was good. She was always willing in her softness, delicacy and irresistibility._

_And then it was over, we separated and breathed independently. I smiled into her face as she did the same for me. One of those quiet moments that passed without pomp and circumstance, but there was a note of importance to it, an intangible element that couldn't be defined but became a cornerstone sometime later._

_“What’s your news, Hiddleston?” she repeated visibly affected by the kiss with a blush and a shy tilt of her head._

_I relented and released my hold on her. “I got a new movie, and it’s one I’ve been hoping for.”_

_“Oh?” she asked kicking off her flats right in the doorway and following me into the kitchen. “How much can you tell me?”_

_Although it was only four in the afternoon, I poured us two glasses of champagne to toast my success. Abby wiggled her way into one of the bar stools, out of harm’s way, while I moved around the kitchen._

_A conspiratorial looked crossed my face and lured Abby in, her elbows on the counter top. “Can you keep a secret?” The question was out of my mouth before I thought it through. Secret lovers, secret rendezvous, secret dates, all indicated that she was entirely capable and continued to demonstrate that she could keep most anything confidential._

_However, Abby offered no grief in the exchange for my slip of the tongue, rather nodded enthusiastically to confirm that whatever I told her would remain between us._

_“Did I tell you why I dressed as Dracula for the cast party?”_

_The first sip of champagne after we clinked glasses gave Abby’s cheeks a rosy glow. “I thought it was for the fangtastic puns and the fiendish biting of my neck,” she quipped tying her long hair back in a loose pony with a band from her pocket._

_With her hands otherwise occupied, I could bury my face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling and leaving another unmistakable bite behind, like I had the night before. I hummed, “A thrilling perk, to say the least.”_

_Into her flute, she muttered mischievously, “And it only took you an eternity to shag me in that gown.”_

_“I’m too randy for you, my little minx, but I think you’re confusing an eternity with an hour.”_

_After our romp in the coat closet when I bit off a little more than I could chew (Abby’s talent for stroking me through my trousers came to a puzzling, though not unexpected, abrupt end), we rejoined the party separately. Abby was swept away by the man that played her character’s father in the play. She was sucked unwillingly down the rabbit hole of discussing (really, listening to) a game of golf, a sport she didn’t play, had never played, and to my knowledge, had no intention of playing at present or in the future._

_I mingled with the other cast members, indulged in a few more glasses of wine and made my presence known, to detract from stealing away with my costar for a quickie. Over the heads of the unsuspecting party goers, Abby made eye contact with me and mouthed for me to save her. Timothy was a gentle soul and took to Abby much like a father to a daughter. He cornered her more often than not to tell her of his excursions to Scotland for one tournament or another, my lover too sweet and forgiving to step away or stop him._

_Twenty minutes and a dance later, I politely stepped in, asking him kindly if I could cut in and steal his dance partner. Abby thanked me for sparing her from another litany of golfing terms, by privately taking me back to the coat closet. With the voluminous Cinderella gown hiked up to her waist to expose her bare lower half, I brought her to orgasm twice, once with my fingers and next on my (finally cooperating) cock._

_“It felt like an eternity, chatting with Tim. He means well, but I’m not sure I want to learn that much about a nine iron… or whatever.”_

_Swallowing the last of my first glass of champagne, feeling the warmth and bubbly sensation fill my belly, I caught her nervous little laugh and her wave of fingers, gesturing a golf stroke. Bringing her fingers to my mouth, I kissed them as a delightful chaser to the champagne. “Thanks for coming. I couldn’t wait to share the news with… someone… who could appreciate it.”_

_I faltered over the words, my internal warning bells sounding in the back of my head. Don’t get too close to this girl. Don’t lead her into a deeper relationship. Sound reasoning chimed in with what harm could a little shop talk do._

_Biting her lip, she nodded as an invitation to tell her, genuinely wanting to be there with me._

_I told her about my talks with Jim Jarmusch and vampires, animals musicians, inventors, scientists, authors that went into the creation melting pot of my next character, Adam. Abby, the excitable creature, happily squealed for me and offered to do some further research with me. Rattling off movie titles as she perused my DVD library, she put together a movie marathon of strictly vampire movies and ordered me to pop the popcorn, since she wasn’t allowed to touch the microwave._

_My iPad made an appearance from my office to the living room with Abby’s help, “interneting” (as she called it) some more facts and lore about vampires. We sat side by side on the couch with our second bottle of champagne and big bowl of popcorn, reviewing the pages we found through Google. I set her on my lap at one point while we were reading a page about Vlad the Impaler, and she never got relocated to the couch._

*

“… we dozed off somewhere around five watching Lost Boys, and after Interview with the Vampire, Dracula, From Dusk till Dawn, and your favorite—“

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” she replied coiling her fingers in my hair.

I nodded. “You were draped over my chest, completely dressed, and we passed out after too much champagne and popcorn. That was the night- Abby, I don’t know… you relocated from the fangirl category and left it as a pile of ash. I could never find that box again to put you back in. You were there for me when I couldn’t share the news with someone else- and you helped celebrate it. That night- it wasn’t about the pleasure of your body but the pleasure of your company.”

“How many hickeys did I have when I went home again?”

I chuckled at her question, loving that she knew me so well without remembering the night she asked me to elaborate on and the fate of the tin button. “Three, I was practicing.” After a few sobering moments, I said, “But you left the button in my office- probably when you retrieved my iPad. I found it on my desk later that afternoon after you’d left for an audition or a class or something. Abby, you left it again when I wasn’t looking.”

The plummeting of my stomach echoed through me as I remembered finding her gift to me. We passed it back and forth, ever since she first tried to give it to me. I could feel the sickening dread that she wouldn’t come back, that she’d found her closure by giving it back.

“You got your closure, Abby. I didn’t want you to have it, but the back and forth- I let you have it. The button is still in my office.”

This Abby, amnesia girl Abby, looked at me with a stern pout. “You’re a tosser, Tommy Hiddleston. A right bloody tosser.”

Anger and annoyance colored her words, and I hadn’t been expecting such venom. I obviously displeased her. “What, Abby? What did I do?”

The woman was still in my lap, clinging to me, almost completely naked, and despite her being cross with me, she didn’t move away. “For an intelligent bloke, you’re not all that smart, are you?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue at me, on the wrong side of irritated. “I wasn’t giving you that button for closure, you halfwit.”

“How could you know that?” I’d been filling in the missing time for her after she told me about her flash of memory that she got with Emma and the fish sandwich.

“I’m still with you now!” She guided my hands at the small of her back down to her bum. “Feel that? Abby’s here.  _I’m_  here with you now.”

I nodded, but lost for words and, more importantly, lost in the conversation.

“That wasn’t closure. That was an invitation!”

I furrowed my brow in confusion, searching for the logic in that.

Huffing, she explained, “I agreed to keep ‘seeing’ you, to continue this… I was with you, Tom. That button, you tore it off my costume, and- giving it to you… that button… I was inviting you to keep ripping my buttons off, you silly man!”

All these months, I’d been believing that Abby had one foot out the door, ready to leave since she’d closed the circle.

“Symbolic… I wanted you to keep me naked. I wanted you to have to touch me to protect the bare skin that you uncovered. I wanted you, Tom.”

The truth was better than I ever hoped for. “You… brought it to me… at the end,” I said unevenly wrapping my mind around the reality of it. “It was the end… the play. The wrap party. Closure.” All things must come to an end, and cast mates usually exchanged gifts at the end, gifts, hugs, pictures, contact information. To leave on a happy note without the sadness of a goodbye. “The end of a run.”

“I didn’t want that between us. I told you that much, right?” She clutched my face between her good hand and her bad one as gently as she could while conveying her urgency for me to understand. “I felt that- in my memory, I felt how much I wanted you. I longed for you. I felt it…” She moved one of my hands from her bum to her stomach. “I felt it in here.”

“God… Abigail…” I was beyond all possible expression. How many times could I doubt this woman? How, at every turn? I crushed her to me with my arms wound around her in a bruising embrace, my face pressed into her breasts, but she didn’t pull away. She held me as tightly as I held her.

“Tom… Thomas, I want you to trust me. I was giving you my loyalty even then. When you didn’t ask for it… when you weren’t sure you wanted it… I was giving it to you. Trust me now.” She spoke with such emphasis, so much gumption, and with every bit of her. From that day in hospital, that first interaction since the accident, when I went to touch her, she learned who I was, what I needed. Her words, I needed her words.

Why did it take me so long to listen to her? I craved her voice, her words, her praise, and yet I’d never listened to her, never heard her. At least not when it mattered most.

Her words poured over me now, from the top of my head where she spoke, and cascaded down my body to drench me in it. “I probably loved you even then, but that doesn’t matter now. I love you now, my beautiful man.”

I shuddered into her embrace, breathing in her skin, her essence. The intense pleasure of hearing her say that she loved me and I was her beautiful man again overwhelmed me, completely consumed me. I was hers again, something I’d missed for all these weeks. I just savored the feeling.

“I love you, and I need you to trust me,” she urged, curling herself around me as much as her plaster cast would allow. “Can you start fresh with me? Learn to trust me?  _Forget_  everything that came before?”

The stress on that word pulled at me, twinged. The light bulb switched on and I finally understood why fate had tested me this way. Pulling away, I looked up into her face, the innocence and the wisdom so alive in her, stared back at me. I’d been granted a brand new beginning, not only to win Abby’s affections properly, but to learn from her example and forget my past, my hurts, my hang-ups, and my misgivings.

_Clarity._

“My Abigail,” I whispered, moved by this woman and the chance I’d been given with her, not once, but twice.

“I am, Tom. I am your Abigail. Will you trust me? Will you let me treat you the way you’ve treated me?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t say anything more than that. The past was in the past for a reason, and I was ready to leave it there. At last.

Abby kissed my lips, then my cheek, then my jaw, working her way down to my neck. The heat of her breath, the scorching massage of her lips against the nape of my neck set my nerves on edge. Her tongue swirled around to taste the triangle of freckles, and I was suddenly reminded that my beautiful girlfriend was nearly naked and straddling my lap. My mind knew it, and then my body was very aware of it.

“Not like this, Abby,” I breathed hotly against her ear. I moaned as her hips rotated over mine, the friction causing my flesh to swell even more inside my trousers. The last of the rational thoughts fought against my body’s natural response to my girl, my love. My arm hooked around her waist, locking her closer to my hips. My waist jerked upwards, my actions belying my words.

The fingers of Abby’s good hand tangled in my hair, clinging to me as I did her. Her tongue curled around my earlobe pulling it into her mouth, the warm wet sensation drawing out another groan from my chest.

“Not like this, Abby,” I repeated, though the words empty of meaning. My body couldn’t hide how much I craved her, but the proud gentleman needed to stop this. “Not like this, not when you don’t… remember.”

Almost all of her actions stopped, she halted to look into my eyes. “I don’t need to remember. I know you.” The stain in her cheeks reflected the heat between us, our need for one another. Her fingertips traced over my cheekbones before her thumb ghosted over my lips. “You’re the man who’s been by my side when I need him most, gracefully, respectfully put me first… even when I didn’t remember you. You’ve helped me- reading, writing, script analysis, cleaning peach lotion from…” she trailed off.

Her brain shifted gears. “You’re the most intelligent, brilliant man that I ever met,” a small smile crept over her lips and she leaned into share it with me. “A bit dense, but I can forgive that. You’re sentimental and caring, considerate, and so so pretty.”

Despite the heat and the pressing need racing through my system, I smiled. I’d won my Abby over, and nothing else could satisfy me more.

“I call you my beautiful man, not just because you’re pretty. It’s for the way you treat me.”

I started to object, to remind her of my suspicions, why I was so quick to judge. Abby placed her fingers over my lips blocking my rebuttal and shook her head. “I understand your jealousy. I don’t blame you for it. That part of your life is over now. I’m here. I want you. I love you. You can trust in me now.”

Laying another savory kiss on me, she intimated in a low voice, “I’d like to make love with the man that made me belong, who didn’t let me feel lonely or alone when I lost my time. I want to, Tom,” she breathed against my ear. The sensation of it chased a jolt of excitement through my bloodstream straight to my cock. She licked my earlobe, the warm wet feeling a hint,  _a smidgen_ , of her around me. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Christ…” A beat. An inhale, hers or mine, maybe both, I couldn’t be sure. “Abby… what are… aaahhh… you doing to-to-to me?” I ground her hips against mine, my hands gripping her tighter, urgently. My resolve slipped away, my self-control yielding to my libido and my sexual need for this woman.

“Just think of it, Tom. You. Me,” the sultry, husky tone seducing me as much as her hands against my chest and her hips moving against mine. I would swear that she was made of pure sin. “Hot- wet- damp with sweat, skin on skin… to feel your weight on me- and then me on top of you.”

My brain melted in my head with every new word, each new visual pushing me further down my path of libidinous treachery. My girl was still healing, still broken, still mending her injuries and her mind, but I wasn’t sure I could be gentle. I groaned as the cant of our hips together created more friction and more sparks of need.

Weakly I murmured, “Abby, I can’t resist you.” All proprietary of shoulds and shouldn’ts fought my manners and how to respect the girl. I set myself a goal of earning this girl the right way this time, to not let my cock rule my actions. Naturally I wanted to have sex, but I wanted to make love with Abby. That was the fundamental difference between the man I was and the man I’d become, with her, because of her.

“I don’t want you to resist me anymore. Claim me, baby.”

The endearment didn’t help my predicament. Her plea for me to make her mine again didn’t help my predicament. She spoke directly to the possessive, devoted man desperately in love with her, the jealous prat that felt threatened by a friendship with another man, and the overly confident actor with the ravenous appetite for his costar all at once. She’d learned enough about me to love me when she’d forgotten that she already did.

“My beautiful man,” she whispered against my lips, hers feathering over mine. I felt the caress of those words along my heart, the soul of me that belonged with her.

Every muscle in my body surged towards my Abigail with her pet name for me. I’d earned it again, I’d earned my title as hers and my place with her. She held tight to me as I flipped us sideways to get on top of her on the bed. I landed perfectly between her legs, framing my hips from her straddling my lap.

Abby minded her broken wrist by lowering it upon the mattress beside her head. The rest of her wrapped around, engaged in or touched me in what was quickly becoming the renewal of our physical relationship.

Without a pause, my hands were scraping her knickers down the length of her legs. She helped by shimmying to get them lower then lifting her feet out one by one. Starting at the back of her knees, I licked, nipped, kissed, and nibbled my way up the inside of her thighs, in turn, inch by inch on each leg. My need to love her and devote all my affection on her inspired me to take my time, alight every pore of her as I knew I could.

A slow leisurely trip down lover’s lane, showering each erogenous zone on her as a point of interest. I’d mapped my way before, all of her body familiar to me. But like the autumn and the changing of the leaves, the familiar became exciting and unexplored. I knew how to please her, pleasure her, worship her as only I could, but this was different with all our exorcised demons.

She sighed, moaned and chanted my name, lavishing my need to hear her approval of my skill as her lover. The muscles of her things, always so strong, quivered under my tongue after laving that one spot that made her gush with liquid desire.

Abby’s fingers dug into my hair and led me to her wet and swollen sex, her arousal glistening along her slit. “Abigail…” I reveled as I settled between her legs. I honestly couldn’t tell if she wanted to come on my tongue more than I wanted her to. Lapping at her like a feasting man, I took to her, disregarding all manner of time and the expectant arrival of my publicist, willing to stay there for the rest of my life. My erection, the strain of blood and the pressure of it, meant so little to me when my girl craved an orgasm.

She gave me little in the way of sound when my tongue swirled over her clitoris, only a tiny hitch of breath. Her body felt the effects of my pleasuring her, her fingers clenched in my hair, yanking me harder into her, her thighs spasmed and fell open, wider to allow me in. Her body wiggled and adjusted as I gave her all I had. I was so thirsty for her after the unexpected interruption of our sex life. She tasted tangy and sweet, just like my Abby and her bubbly personality. Aromatic female arousal…

When she began to climb towards climax, she finally vocalized her pleasure. Breaking through the high pitched inhales and shudders, she squeaked, “Tom!” With the exclamation of my name, the floodgates opened with a rush of ‘Oh my God’s in quick succession, a drawn out moan or growl and squeals.

Her hips gyrated and rocked against my face as I felt her muscles contract and give way to her impending orgasm. “Oh God, Tom… rightthere… right, ah, there… right there right there right there…” she shivered as the pleasure dominated her body, the ecstasy claiming her. Heat rolled off of her skin at a fevered pitch, reaching for climax. This was my beautiful, passionate love and this was how it was meant to be.

Without injuries or fractured memories or questionable male friends or monopolizing careers. Two people sharing in a vulnerability and openness, trusting each other to get the other side of life’s many obstacles. Abby embraced my faults, loved me more because of them, and gave of herself. I accepted her with all her faults, adored her for them and helped her become a stronger person.

As her inner walls began to clench, I thrust two fingers into her core, my tongue circling her clitoris. Abby keened, her back bowing as my free arm held her hips captive against the mattress, focusing on finding every ounce of pleasure I could make her feel.

Her incredible crisis consumed her and her entire being relaxed with the incredible euphoria that flooded through her. All I heard was my name on her lips as a gigantic sigh and she collapsed on the bed, completely spent. I lapped at her core until she landed back on Earth.

I shed my clothes and unclasped her bra at the front before she opened her eyes again after her climax. She smiled a relaxed grin as she wrapped her good arm around me to pull me into a hearty kiss. My cock twitched against her thigh and she shifted enough so I was directly at the apex of her legs.

Pulling free of our kiss, she joked, “I’d forgotten how good you were at that.”

I cocked an eyebrow, “You minx, you’d forgotten more than that.”

She nipped at my chin with her teeth playfully, “Then you know I’m not fibbing.”

Indescribable relief washed over me that she could poke fun of her amnesia. She could trust me not to judge her and not to feel cheated by her lack of knowledge when it came to our life together. I understood her desire to be intimate with me now, before she possibly regained all her memories.

It wasn’t about proving herself as a loyal and faithful girlfriend. Henry and my past didn’t figure into her decision to take that step with me. All she wanted was to be close with me, experience every level of trust she could, and do something ‘new’ with me. She wasn’t the adventurous type, but she let that go to be with me. She gave me something that no one else could have and it was all mine, the combination of pre-accident Abby and post-accident Abby.

That’s why she brought me into the bedroom and undressed in front of me. She’d already made the decision to be with me. The rest of the revelations were just a bonus to make this that much sweeter, proof that this wasn’t just sex. Abby and I were making love.

Her dazzling, sparkling blue eyes actually beamed with excitement in anticipation of the next part. “My beautiful man… my beautiful Thomas…”

The endearment was all the encouragement I needed to press into her, to glide myself inside, to find home. I didn’t need to ask if she was sure that she wanted to do this, to have sex while she was less than whole or complete. Her mind was set and no amount of questioning or warning would sway her. She wanted our life together back, or as close to, without her memories as she could, and to her, this was the last mountain to climb.

Flesh in flesh, I was home.

“My Abigail,” I sighed into a kiss as my body claimed hers. We were slow at first, finding our rhythm together. Her walls gripped me as much as her legs did around my waist and her good arm around my neck. She gave all she had, and I gave her all I had. The slow rocking slowly became more pronounced and distinctive strokes, our hips crashing together in harmony.

Our breathing shortened, and became punctuated by the clash and crush of our bodies together. Moans and small cries of pleasure joined the sound of the bed moving with us and the muted sounds of flesh slapping flesh. The aroma of peach mixed with arousal permeated and fed my need for her. It didn’t take long for me to find myself at the edge of ecstasy.

I rolled over, bringing Abby with me so she was kneeling over me. Her waist resumed our rhythm, the new position helping her climb to her next climax. Both her hands were on my chest, but most of her weight was on her knees and hips. I watched her writhe above me in the throes of passion, her eyes trained on me as mine were on her.

I didn’t have to command her to come or let go, her body found her ecstasy against my pelvic bone and she collapsed over me riding the waves of pleasure washing over her. Holding her hips steady, I thrust up into her rippling climax until I found mine, my body spilling into her.

We lay there basking in the glow of our love making for a long time afterwards, her head on my chest, her body pressing into mine. Light caresses feathered along the skin of my arm as I stroked her hair and back, the cool air drying the sweat on our skin.

She finally whispered, “I love you, my beautiful man.”

“I love you too, baby.”

The buzzer sounded throughout my flat a few minutes later, disturbing our calm.

“Oh, shit! That’s Luke,” I cursed, shifting my confused girl to the bed. “Shit! I forgot.”

“Did I know he was coming?” she asked with a giggle. I tried shoving myself back into my trousers, but my brain was still hazy from sex. She found her clothes and began stepping back into them.

“My mind’s a little hazy, I can’t remember.”

Abby laughed out loud, trying to clip her bra back on. “Join the club.”

I somehow got dressed well before Abby did. While the buzzer sounded again, followed by a knock loud enough to travel through my flat, I kissed my girl full on the mouth, letting her know that I wasn’t taking the mickey. “You’ve—“

“Fucked you senseless?”

“Loved me well, you little minx. Finish getting dressed, I’ll entertain Luke until you’re ready.” I kissed her once more and made for my front door, feeling incredibly alive.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke knew my flat, had been many times before, stayed in my guest room when his place was painted and got tired of sleeping in his office downtown, helped me move house when I bought the place. In fact, there was a scoffed paint mark in the hallway, just outside my office door that he was solely responsible for. His depth perception failed him when he moved a wooden chair into that room, and I never got to touching up the paint.

Cursing his timing and his arrival, I opened the front door to find my publicist armed with two pizza boxes, a binder and six pack. He had no trouble moving around my place as if he lived there himself, and proceeded through the door bent on what he came for. He unloaded in the living room before traipsing through to the kitchen for plates and other dinner essentials. “Brought everything with me,” he muttered, just this side of addressing me. “Hawaiian marguerita for Abby, chicken and vegetable for us. Wrote up the contract if she agrees.”

He talked while I stood in the middle of my flat, watching him cross from one side of my flat to the other, setting things out. I felt out of sorts, the jarring discord of reveling in the afterglow of Abby, her body, our lovemaking to my publicist set on world domination, one career, one article, one headline at a time. “Luke, would you mind- I forgot to… to- let me go talk to Abby for a minute.”

He nodded, crossing once more from the kitchen with glasses and napkins from the drawer. “Is she alright? All good?”

“Yeah, mate, yeah. I just forgot- I’ll be a minute. Let me prepare her… I’m sorry. She didn’t handle Ben too well the other night. I need to—“ Between the park with Henry, Abby’s discussion and our passionate resolution, I’d forgotten about Luke and his proposal to hire my girl for the Avengers press tour PR team. I couldn’t be sure that Abby was prepared to face Luke or be open to a chat with him.

While he was gesturing that he’d be fine, I didn’t doubt it, announcing another apology, “I’m sorry, Luke… I’ll bring her out. I need to check on her.”

Always the good sport, he shrugged it off. “Do what you gotta do, mate, I’m here.”

They’d seen each other off and on during Abby’s recovery so far, but she didn’t remember knowing Luke. Mostly she clammed up when he came by with food from Sainsbury’s or something that I needed to look over. She kept to my side or hid away in the bedroom until he left. He kept his visits to a minimum so he didn’t upset her, hoping that her memories would come back and she’d love him like she had before.

“Sorry… just a few minutes,” I said over my shoulder to fetch Abby from the bedroom.

Standing before the vanity in the bathroom, Abby inspected and scrutinized the bump on her head. I rushed to her. “Are you hurt? Is it bothering you?” the worried boyfriend was never far with her injuries so visible.

She reclined back against my chest as she saw me behind her in the mirror. Her good hand held back her fringe to see the bump; her eyes, both alive and alert, lifted to mine in the mirror. “I’m okay, babe. It itches a bit.”

I craned my neck around to look at the still raised lump just below her hairline. “No pain? No dizziness?”

Her hand dropped from her hair to her side, the injury concealed behind her hair. “None. I feel amazing, babe. Wobbly legs, fluttery belly, very satisfied lady bits and an itchy bump,” she grinned.

“I’ll take three out of four,” I vowed, dropping a kiss on her neck. “Concerned about the fourth.”

Taking my hands in hers, she guided my arms around her, once more pleading her wellness, “I’m fine. Now why is Luke here? I heard him talking…” Her index finger poised in the general direction of the bedroom and beyond.

“He came to talk to you, well… to us.”

“What about?” her uncertainty rang over the two words.

“Baby, don’t be nervous. Luke adores you, like the little sister he never had.” I moved my hand from her hips to her belly, cocooning her in my arms. “We have… an option… for you when I have to go away.”

Her smile steeled and her eyes lost some of their sparkle at the reminder, the change almost instantaneous. “Do we have to talk about it?” Her tone flattened with little inflection. She dragged her gaze away from mine in the mirror, unsuccessfully hiding her emotions. Her concentration went to a spot on her plaster cast in avoidance. “Now?” A gravity pulled at us to go back to bed, to celebrate in finding each other again, to learning how to trust each other.

Swiveling her around in my arms, I lifted her chin. “I don’t want to leave you either, baby. Especially now that your memories are coming back little by little. Filling in the details for you, helping you, I want to be there for all of that.”

“Can- will-will he change your schedule? Can’t you stay?”

I shook my head. “This is part of my contract. I have to go, can’t change that. But… hear what Luke has to say, okay?”

Sighing she nodded, in no way excited about whatever this relative acquaintance had to offer. “We just found each other… again, I guess. Losing you… now…”

“You can’t. You won’t. Just listen to what Luke has to say,” I comforted, hoping it would ease the tension out of her. “You’re still mine during this tour, no matter what happens or what you decide.”

“I decide? Is it up to me?”

“Let’s talk to Luke,” I unraveled from her and took her hand firmly in mine. “Don’t be nervous. I know you don’t remember, but Luke loves you. He would never let anything happen to you.”

Despite my prompting, she looked anything but relaxed, her teeth worrying her lower lip and her grip unyielding on my hand. Leading my girl from one room to the other passed smoothly enough until she laid eyes on my publicist. She clung to me when she saw him playing on his phone in the living room. Her pace slowed and her hold on my hand tightened, prepared to hold on should Luke rip me away from her.

The gentleman that lived inside my publicist forced him to his feet when Abby entered the room, and offered a warm smile. “Abby,” he greeted like a lost friend he hadn’t seen for a long while, his voice dipping to a rich baritone. “How are you, doll?”

Abby hid her blush of embarrassment by looking at the floor. She couldn’t tell him about her wobbly legs, fluttery pulse and satisfied lady bits. “I-I-I’m fine, thank you,” she stammered.

“Got your favorite for dinner, doll, ham and pineapple pizza. The savory and the sweet, right?”

She nodded, “T-thank you.”

“Have a small gift for you, too,” he said. His hands patted each pocket until he felt the outline of what he was looking for in his trousers. “Doll, we’ve known each other a little bit, now, and I like you.” He repeated his initial opening line from their first meeting months ago. He’d been able to win her over then, and had a go of breaking the ice again with a slightly different approach.

Without her memories, he missed out on the opportunity of complimenting her talent, at least he couldn’t without pointing a finger at her current disability. That would only alienate her and make her feel bad, two things Luke was trying to avoid. He met my eyes, and he nodded his head once, communicating something to me, something I missed at first.

Luke brought out a pin, no bigger than a broach in the shape of angel. He held it in his outstretched hand to her to coax her out. “This is for you, doll. An overdue thank you gift.”

I knit my eyebrows together as he looked to me again and shook his head to warn me not to ask. He tilted his towards distracted Abby to indicate that he wanted her to ask, to draw her out.

Examining the pendent in her bad hand, she seemed to be looking for a clue for why this man gave her a gift and what it was for. The light-weight, inexpensive piece of jewelry threaded through her fingers as she turned it over and over again. After a long pause, she said politely, “Thank you.” It was clear that she was still puzzled by it and couldn’t quite tear her eyes from the angel, willing it to give her the hidden meaning.

Motioning for everyone to sit, I asked, “Shall we then?” With my arm around Abby’s shoulders, I sat with her on the sofa while Luke took the chair across. Luke and I began discussing a strategy for appearing at two events on the same day, logistics, pros and cons of both, time allotted, and the potential benefit of making myself available for both.

“I’m sorry… I don’t… re- What is it for?” Abby asked a few minutes later when there was a pause in the conversation. When my girl piped up, Luke and I stopped to look at her. She held up the angel, the object that had kept her silent for the better part of ten minutes. “Please. Can you tell me?”

Luke smiled for her. “We’ve known each other for a bit. You called me your angel, more than once- when I helped you out, got you free of the BBC, kept you out of the investigation surrounding your producer, introduced you to some people, a bit of networking, the audition that got you into your current play.” He rattled off each point along his journey with her, counting it off on his fingers as he went. “Called me your angel, but you were mine too, doll.”

“Me? What did I do?”

Luke shrugged with one shoulder, “You helped me indirectly… you’re my guardian angel.” The fingers of Abby’s good hand threaded through mine as she sat forward in rapt interest to her assistance. “Abby, your incident with the BBC led me…” He shook his head and started over again. “One of my clients was getting harassed by the paps, wherever she went, whenever, however they could. She left the studio, they were there. She left her flat, they were there. She left the gym, they were there. After dinners, after meetings, during events- everywhere. They hounded her about false rumors, about the men she was seeing, about women they speculated on, questionable casting choices- anything they could accuse her of, they would.”

“That’s awful. How?”

“I couldn’t find the source. For every appearance and charitable thing I put her in to clear her name, these Daily Mail paps were ruining it, dragging her name and reputation through the mud, and I couldn’t stop it. All these fake rumors and innuendos. She was on the next boat to Africa if it didn’t stop. In my hunt for dirt on your ex-producer Dennis, I found the source of bad press for Alanna. He was leaking all sorts of shit, since she flat out told him no to his advances. I didn’t pick up the trail because she finished out her contract on that show, and I didn’t know there was bad blood. Alanna didn’t know there was bad blood either. This dick held a grudge.”

“Oh… is that why you helped me?”

“Damage control. Needed the good deed on my conscience. Fixed her and fixed you, got you both employed again, and I relieved my guilt,” he said with a sigh of relief.

Coyly, Abby whispered, “You’re welcome.” There was a little of her sass in there, her coquettish flip, and Luke and I both laughed.

*

“Abby, I’d like to hire you, doll,” Luke stated after pizza and drinks, alcohol free for Abby since the doctor hadn’t cleared her for that. Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his legs, he sat across the coffee table from my girl and me, her hand wrapped around mine.

She looked to me as if to ask if my publicist was serious before scrutinizing him again. “Me? H-h-how? For what?” She still didn’t fully understand Luke’s role in my career though he and I both tried to explain it since the accident. In a weird way, Abby pushed the truth of my career and my success from her head. She wasn’t discounting it; it was just one of those things that she’d logged away to deal with when she was ready.

Abby lived with this hierarchy in her head, a class system, and measured how compatible she was on this internal meter. I’d picked up on it and read her response after learning each of her Abby World boyfriends. If they were beyond her in any aspect, the man wasn’t invited to live in Abby World. She was still reading Luke against her scale of nothing to friend. He placed close to friend with the pet name, the angel pin and the whole pizza pie he brought for her.

The presentation that Luke created in PowerPoint was ingenious, and gave Abby visuals to see. The printed pages were in the binder all drawn up to show how any information he decided to release about me and about my career spread. He’d mocked up a corresponding twitter, tumblr, Instagram and Facebook page that she would run, if she agreed. He offered the use of his company’s laptop, iPad and mobile for updating along the tour.

Abby and I both asked questions about the kind of information shared and the experience Luke had in mind for the fans, as well as the long term goal of this proposal. Everything was far more intricate than I originally imagined, and nearly all the accounts were ready “to go live.” Luke remained in control of anything released for public consumption, but Abby would be drafting, writing and posting. He proposed at least three tweets for each stop, Los Angeles, Moscow, London, Rome, Berlin, and New York City, and one blog post to summarize each city, including anything interesting that I might’ve said along during the interviews or press conferences. Luke also wanted her to promote, retweet some of the more excited tweets from fans that mentioned me or my performance specifically, and manage two one hour twitter question and answer sessions.

Abby would also take some pictures during premieres to post online and retweet anything that I tweeted, as would Luke. The technology of all of it seemed to overwhelm her, but both Luke and I promised that we’d help with that part.

Luke summed up the whole presentation with, “The producers won’t let you back into the theatre and step into your role until your wrist is fully healed, too risky for insurers, but I can keep you busy until then. It’s a lot of traveling, doll, and a lot of long hours, too little sleep, irritating interviews and press conferences, but I think you can do it. I want you as a part of my team. It’ll free me up to approve questions from the press, and it’ll get Tom involved with the fans. Best of all, Tom and I get to be there when you make a full recovery.”

Abby stared at him in silence and then looked to me. A perfect combination of excitement, terror, and anxiousness filled her face, and she glowed with the chance of experiencing something new with me. “Why me?” Abby didn’t want pity or special favors or handout. She wanted to earn the things she was offered, based on her skills and her knowledge.

Pragmatically, Luke levelled her, “Abby doll, I’ll be straight with you here. Your injuries opened up this possibility. Tom’s the best person to have beside you until you get back on your feet, he cares for you like no one else. But he has other commitments to fulfill too. I found a possibility to keep you at his side, at least as much as you can be while he’s working.”

Abby shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers pressing and releasing around mine as she listened. Her sensitivity to her condition made her vulnerable to it.

Before I stepped in to alleviate her stress some, Luke rallied to her side. “But, doll, you’re an actress, a damn good one, and you have the charisma for creating an online presence. You’re enthusiastic, magnetic and you’re also in love with the man I’m trying to promote in the best light I can. You’ve got a passion for him that I want to spread. Tom’s playing the villain, but I want to show his fun, sensitive side while Loki is in the spotlight. So much attention will be on his nastiness on screen, the bad guy. If I can influence some of that with Tom the actor… show a different side to him- Versatility.

“Granted the fan side isn’t the most influential road to success, but if Tom’s in demand from the audience, maybe I can sway casting people to consider him for leading man. It couldn’t hurt to try it.”

“And I’m the person for this job?”

Without hesitation, Luke agreed, “No question. I created this position for you. If you turn it down, I won’t fill it with someone else. It’s a risk I’m willing to take with you. This isn’t an experiment that we’re going to be able to quantify in the long run, whether it works or it doesn’t. We won’t ever know for sure, but I’m willing to give it a go with you.”

The magnitude of this project and the scope of the number of people that Abby would potentially be chatting up staggered her. She looked down at the binder, staring at the images of what could be. Her pulse quickened against my wrist, at least it felt like that, but could’ve been mine.

It was a test, one that couldn’t be tried in any other way but going for it. Either we tried it or we didn’t, and maybe it would work and maybe it would have no effect. We’d never know, but Luke convinced me with his pictures, generic text posts, and the interactions that some of the Marvel accounts had been running since the start of Phase One of the Marvel franchise. This would go differently for an individual actor, but it looked like fun.

“Baby, are you thinking?” I managed to get her to blink free of the invisible hold the binder had on her, and she looked at me, bewildered.

“Got muddled around ‘in love with the man’ and the room started spinning around ‘created this position.’ Did Luke just… propose to me?” She lightened the mood and the seriousness after her silent pondering.

Luke threw in, “If that would help you agree…”

Between laughing, I wrapped my arms around her possessively. My publicist joked about stealing her away, her sense of humor put her in my arms. This was a difficult decision, and she infused some folly in reminding me that she could be perfect for this job.

“Tom, are- is this what you want?” Her eyes sought mine with her question.

“I believe in you. There’s a certain amount of anonymity to it that you could immerse yourself in. But I can’t make this decision for you. I hired Luke to handle certain aspects of my career. He’s got the brains and training to put me out there and make me look good, so I trust him.”

That wasn’t exactly the question she was asking. I knew it and she knew it, but that was a discussion for her and me to have alone.

“Luke,” Abby took a deep breath turning her head back to him. “Thank you for the offer—“

“Don’t say no, baby,” I told her softly, reading the denial on her face and in her speech pattern. “Don’t say no. Just have a think on it.“

My encouragement changed her mind and she said to Luke, "Okay, I’ll think on it.”

*

After Luke left and I closed the door behind him, I noticed the silence in my flat. The television turned off and the living room and kitchen deserted. The muted atmosphere felt alarming, unnatural and I needed to fill the vacuum of quiet. Securing all the lights in the off position, I shuffled through to the bedroom to find Abby in the bed, lying perfectly still, wearing only one of my t-shirts, Luke’s gift held up by her good hand to study the wingspan.

“Luke is,” she mused softly. “He’s a sweet bloke.” Her fingers played around the token of her friendship with Luke. Abby didn’t always respond to gifts, but if they were geared to her as a person, she felt it as much as a touch. Luke did the right thing by her this time, appealing to her as a friend. By presenting a gift and respecting their relationship together, he showed her that he wasn’t going to judge or ridicule her for her condition. He remained on her side, and he’d proven that. “I like him.” She lifted her cast covered arm, splaying her fingers and squeezing them, wincing slightly when her wrist protested.

“He loves you, baby.”

As delectable as her bare legs appeared, smooth skin and even smoother curves, the attention she gave her injury and the concerned expression she wore worried me. Closing the door of the bedroom to the rest of my flat, I peeled off my shirt and then stood at the foot of the bed, watching her fingers glide over the protruded jagged surface of her cast, the abandoned angel beside her head.

Crawling over her wordlessly, I rested my weight on her, chest to chest, torso to torso, thigh to thigh. I offered what tactile comfort she needed with the changes she’d agreed to think on.

“I’m nervous, Tom,” she confessed, welcoming me into her space, her good arm around my neck. Her eyes held all the worry of flights, responsibilities, and pressing deadlines, all the difficulties of accepting a new job.

I nodded, the bulk of me resting on her softness. Pushing back the gnawing desire to feel her writhe and strain under me, I focused on her anxiousness. “About the traveling or the job or something else?”

“All of that. All of it. It’s all… so scary.”

I took up the angel wings from where she dropped them on the bed. “Luke’s your angel, baby. He’ll take good care of you, see that you succeed.”

“It’s a lot of work, getting from place to place, but having to be entertaining once you’re there?” her eyes grew wider with the additional pressure and emphasis. She remarked quietly, “I’ve said I’d think on this- I want to be with you, Tom… trying something new. I want to try this job. I want all of that.”

I held her gaze, pondering her show of bravery at traveling and being exposed to so many people. “Then why so quiet, baby?”

“Do you want to cart your girlfriend, your still broken girlfriend, all around the world with you?” The dubious expression marred her face, and her eyes filled with sadness.

“I’d prefer she’s walk beside me.”

“Tom- no, I’m- no- seri–”

“Baby, I told you before, I want to be the one looking out for you. You can handle being on your own, almost- exploding lotion aside.”

She clicked her tongue at me in mock disdain. “Feeling self-conscious about this, Tom,” she showed  me her broken wrist. “And this,” she gestured to the site of her head wound and the root cause of her loss of memory and her reason for temporarily changing professions.

“You’re still beautiful to me. Some bruises and broken bones don’t change that. Until you get that cast off and your head wound healed, you shouldn’t be alone. I don’t want you to be, and I know you don’t either.”

“You’re sweet,” she said sweeping her hand across my forehead, before landing back over her bump. “There will be questions, questions that I can’t answer, and not just about my bruises.”

“You won’t have to interact with anyone else, only Luke and me. You’ll be protected behind social media, and nobody will know that we’re involved or that you’re healing.”

Her hand returned from her head into my hair, her focus shifting from her fears to me. I knew she’d need some time to adjust; I’d be back on a learning curve with her, but to have her love and affection, I felt prepared to take on the task. “I’m proud of you, baby. This is a big undertaking for you to consider, and I think it might be good for you.”

Her legs slid out from under mine so her knees were up cradling my hips, her feet propped up on the mattress. Her fingertips ghosted over my lips, circling my upper lip and then the lower. “Thank you for the chance… to do something else. I don’t know if I’ll… remember,” her voice lilted almost like a question. “… an entire script. If my brain will ever- never made a backup plan for acting.”

“You don’t have to think about that now. Besides, I was only worried about my kitchen. If you’re not here, it’ll be safe,” I quipped, settling between her legs.

“You have to be nice to me, Hiddleston. I might be your winggirl now.”

“Then it’ll be your job to say nice things about me, Abby.”

“Give me a reason to say nice things,” she intoned while fluttering her lashes. “But if you’re too busy taking the mickey, I don’t have to tell you that I came to bed without knickers.”

“Are you without knickers?” My hand toured from her knee, down the slope for her thigh, and curled around her bare bum. Going for surprised, I gasped comically, squeezing her flesh. “Minx.”

Lowering my lips to hers as she urged me in, I kissed her once, twice, and a third time, my body readying to take her again. “Tom, babe, my handsome man, I think I want to do this.” Her hips thrust upwards as she felt me swell against her center.

“Make love or work with me?”

“Both. Definitely both.” We kissed to seal the deal.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail formally accepted Luke’s proposal to work as a PR assistant for Public Eye the next day. My flat became Luke’s new office within hours of her phone call to him, by the looks of things. All of Abby’s books and puzzles were replaced with laptops, iPads and other gadgets. Training her up took some of the hours of the day, by reviewing schedules and testing out the social media automatic posting capabilities. If her THiddyGirl screenname posted to one of the major sites, it automatically reflected the same to all the others.

Luke showed her which trends to follow, how to track posts or tweets directed to me, and gave her an outline of approved posts for redistribution. He also introduced her to some of the major publications that would be interviewing me in the coming weeks and had her reading up on previous interviews.

Abby took it upon herself to know some of my other work, aside from Thor. The crash course on all things me was strange and exhilarating for both of us. She liked Cranford enough to watch it three times in a row, but she didn’t like Oakley and couldn’t make it all the way through Archipelago. That movie struck a chord in her that I never could’ve predicted. She hated the characters and felt they should’ve been grateful for the family they had, rather than griping at each other. For her, bad family however unsupportive or self-involved was better than no family at all. To combat the remembered loneliness of the years that followed her parents’ deaths, she showered me with affection and compliments, absorbed in me as companion.

Dare I even think, as family?

The Hollow Crown finished principal filming seven days after Abby became part of my publicist team. Most of those interim days, she stayed at my flat working out details and training with Luke, but the other days, she chose to be with me, waiting in my trailer, watching my career on the telly there. Encouragingly, each day, another memory or flash of something from her past revisited her, delivered by a smell, an aroma, a visual aid or the texture of something. The recollections weren’t always about me or our relationship, and it helped her feel whole again, when she relearned part of her missing time, her forgotten two or three years.

One night, Abby took the brave step of reuniting with Juliette, and asking about their row. My girl seemed keen on narrowing down her lost time, and what knocked her back to a certain period of her life. I gave them a wide berth of the living room and kitchen while I stayed out of the way in my office. I overheard part of Juliette’s explanation of their disagreement when I left my iPad in the bedroom.

“… that bloke—a smarmy, fucking tool. You were right, Abbs. You fucking called it.”

Abby laughed at Juliette’s outburst and name calling, and it was joy to hear. “I think I tried telling you that.”

“You did, you did, you did… John knocked up some cow after drinking down the pub one night, the night after he asked me out.”

“He did not!”

“He did, the nasty git!”

“How did you find out… after not listening to me?” Abby prodded with her quirky sass.

“The git tweeted it, I read it on twitter.”

“Not the smartest bloke, that one,” Abby tagged on, and I could almost hear the shake of her head and the roll of her eyes.

Just as I was about to resume my iPad retrieval, the eternal optimist, glass half full, Juliette stated plainly, “Not all blokes are bad, though.” No matter who or what harmed her, she could always see the silver lining. She’d become Abby’s ray of sunshine and one of her closest friends for her sunny disposition. “You’ve your own prince charming, yeah?” she added slyly, turning the conversation back to happier girl talk.

“I’m very lucky to have found him. Tom’s wonderful. He’s got his issues, as we all do… I’m no angel, I’ve got my own.” Her tone turned lighter and happier when she stated, “But Tom… He’s been— so loyal, so patient— I can’t describe how lovely he’s been. To me. Through this whole mess. He’s put up with my tantrums… when I locked myself in the loo… when I wondered off without my phone… my restless nights… my forgetful moments… my confused words… my bouts of shyness… He’s been—“

Juliette cut in when her curiosity peaked beyond ignoring, “Didn’t you remember him at all—after the accident, I mean? You don’t have to say, if you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright, I’m alright now. I remembered nothing. Times with him are starting to come back now… now that I’m healing. But I didn’t know him at all.”

“What’s that like?”

“Scary. To have others know more about me and my life…”

I stopped listening then, and moved into the bedroom without eavesdropping on anymore of Abby’s reunion with Juliette. I didn’t mean to intrude on all that, and the guilt weighed on my mind. I trusted Abby, at least I was trying to let go of history that tainted my view of her all these months. She didn’t deserve it, and she showed me nothing but complete trust. She extended me the privilege of another chance to get this do-over correctly, and I’d do anything to get this right. Abby deserved that much.

*

Well after Juliette left, I joined Abby in the bedroom as soon as I was done reading over a script that had been sitting on my desk for a few weeks. This one didn’t scream or brow-beat me to pursue the role, but it was done and I could move onto other things.

My girl rearranged the pillows on the bed and turned down the sheets. The grace in the movements, the fluidity even with her cast, stopped me in the doorway. She didn’t hear me, nor could she see me with her back to me, bending over the mattress to reach. My t-shirt rode up along her thighs, her beautifully toned bare legs, revealing the small birthmark on the back of her thigh in the shape of a sundae that I adored on her.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned on the doorframe and admired the view. After our clearing the air between us, my attraction to her increased, as she was the woman I fell in love with when I wasn’t paying attention. Listening to her version, her point of view, in her words, to Juliette, she claimed me.  _Abigail claimed me._

I craved nothing more than to touch her, and feel how lucky I was to have found her, the first and the second time. The sinful lift of the cotton along her flesh spoke to my groin loudly, enthusiastically and I needed to talk back. Clearing my conscience for to her private conversation took shotgun though, my need to do right by her. “I owe you an apology, baby.”

She glanced over her shoulder while fluffing the last of the pillows. Her gaze sunk down below the belt, her lips curling up into a sultry knowing grin. She loved my body’s response to her, the mischievous glint gave her away. “Because you haven’t kissed me once in the past hour?”

I huffed a small laugh. “I owe you two apologies.”

She stood up and turned towards me, ready for bed. “If you kiss me, I’ll forgive at least one indiscretion.”

Like a siren, she called to me and I went to her, her power over me as strong and as fierce as a force of nature. I took her cheeks in my hands and brought her eager lips to mine. A soft touch of her mouth on mine and it affected me as much as foreplay.

She opened her eyes after a moment and smiled, “With a kiss like that, I might just forgive both.”

“I overheard some of your conversation with Juliette. I heard my name – I’m sorry, Abby, I didn’t mean to listen, but I heard my name and couldn’t—“

“Tom, I don’t mind.” She took my hands from her face and held them in hers. “No secrets between us, baby.”

“I never—I don’t need to know about your ex-boyfriends. To think that—“

“I won’t tell you unless you ask, baby,” she told me earnestly without pretense or hurt. “I don’t fancy reliving ex-boyfriends. You’ve been—Tom, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Some of that conversation I’d eavesdropped on between her and Juliette helped Abby pinpoint where she lost her memory. The verbal spat between the girls over this Johnathan led to an event that sparked Abby’s missing time. She couldn’t figure the specific event, but she knew from Juliette that it had happened around Abby’s 25th birthday, two years and nine months ago.

She began undressing me, slowly, while she explained, “Just so you know. There haven’t been many exes, and I’m over each one. Been in love before—“

I involuntarily flinched. It was unfair of me to have a knee-jerk reaction to her past when I had one myself. I’d been in love before, and Abby didn’t react with any judgement or appall like I did. The jealousy ran deeply and the scab from that hurt hadn’t healed yet.

“Thomas, I didn’t jump with you because that’s how I operate.” She untucked my shirt from my trousers with small tugs, but her eyes never left my face. “In my sleeplessness, I came to you night after night, almost hoping that you’d take advantage of me. I wanted to give myself to you, without taking responsibility for it, but you fought so hard… I like affection, and God… I really fancy being touched. But I had to be able to blame you, if it went to pot.”

Carefully she peeled my shirt off my shoulders with her good hand, by stepping around behind me. She kissed a spot between my shoulder blades, a touch that nearly brought me to my knees. She then sensually ran her finger down my spine, tracing with the lightest of touches. With each inch down my back, my cock grew harder to give her everything she hinted at.

Her breath tickled along my spine as she pressed against me. “I decided to wait, not just because I felt shy about asking, but because of you.” The palm of her good hand wrapped around, with the same sensual caress, to my abdomen, following the path along my belt. “Thomas, you wanted to earn me and you have.” Her hand slipped down below the clasp of my belt to palm the erection she’d caused with her seduction.

“I can’t blame you. I didn’t want meaningless sex, not with the gentlemanly respect you showed me. We may have started out that way, but not this time.”

“Abby…” I breathed, my voice caught in my throat with her control over me. Her hand gliding over the front of my trousers in a measured stroke. A slow, teasing touch that split my focus between that stimulation and her words.

“You loved me right. You let me in, the strong, intelligent man, let me in and let me love him with all his faults and all his doubts. You let me love you, Thomas, and I do. No more secrets, no more eavesdropping, no more doubts… Only Tom and Abby.”

Reigning in my raging desire, I turned around and repeated, “Only Tom and Abby.” A confirmation and a promise.

As I picked her up in my arms to lay her across the bed she’d turned down for us. She whispered, “Okay.” She acknowledged yet another step in our relationship to recall later.

*

Excitement and an energy of anticipation filled my flat with Abby agreeing to travel with me and my finishing up The Hollow Crown. Life moved in fast forward with both of us busy, and gearing up for the Avengers press junket. Abby adjusted to her role in it, and felt encouraged by joining me on an adventure.

Luke and I both accompanied her to the doctor for her six week checkup at hospital. The bump on her head was still present and visible, but greatly reduced. Dr. Sherpada was convinced that it would disappear for good in a few more weeks. He checked the mobility of her fingers and inquired her level of pain, which was minimal and at random if she attempted more than she should with a broken wrist. He insisted that she needed at least two to three more weeks in the cast to support the bones.

The doctor interviewed her about her memory and how she’d improved since the last visit, asking after any headaches or dizzy spells. Abby demonstrated that she was healing, though still suffered some trouble with memorization. The doctor gave her another encouraging prognosis that she’d more than likely make a full recovery with little to no residual scars or side effects.

“Dr. Sherpada, can Abby travel… by plane?” I asked before he dismissed us for other patients.

“I’m reluctant, the change in pressure and the stress—“

“I’m her caregiver and I’m due out of town for business.”

Luke stepped in from lingering to the side. Politely he interjected, “Doctor, is there any way…” His voice elevated into a question. “Anything we can do for her to make it possible for her to travel?”

Dr. Sherpada gave Abby a discerning, appraising look, seeing her hopeful one. “I wouldn’t advise it, but if Abby thinks she can handle it, I’ll clear her. Abby, do you feel you’re up for traveling?”

Squeezing my hand, she answered spiritedly, “I am, I think so.”

The doctor nodded in acknowledgement, conferring her chart and the bump on her head with a quick lift of her fringe. “Alright, Abby… alright. You’ll need to take some extra precautions and treatments if you plan to go.”

“Both Luke and I will be traveling with her. We’ll see to her care,” I offered.

My publicist handed the doctor a copy of our itinerary, when and where we were going.

The man reviewed the list. “I’ll need to see her when you’re back in London, on the 19th of April, and when she lands back at the conclusion of all this.” He waved his hand over the list of all the stops for the Avengers junket, and my subsequent interviews in Florida. “Travel with earplugs, each flight. A blindfold too, for resting. Abby, have you been experiencing any headaches?”

“No, not since…” she trailed off, looking to me to answer the question.

“A fortnight after the accident. She only took the painkillers for the first week, then paracetamols the second. The pain tapered off faster for her head than her wrist,” I answered from my recollection.

“Flying may be very uncomfortable for someone with a recent brain injury. You’ll need to take two paracetamols before each flight, to eliminate or prevent, maybe manage, a bad head or migraine.

Abby began to fidget and turned to nervousness at the idea of experiencing any pain. She looked to me again, as her support and the person that had been taking care of her from the beginning of her ordeal. “Will it hurt?”

The doctor answered, “It’s a possibility. There are varying circumstances, and every person and situation is different. It’s a judgement call that you’ll have to make for yourself.”

“I don’t want to be alone while I’m still healing,” she said softly to no one in particular. An errant thought that came to her and fell from her mouth without a filter or another thought or qualifier.

Choosing days here and there to go it alone while I was on set, Abby seemed okay with those but she could always change her mind to be with me or Luke or Emma the next. This junket would take that choice from her, she’d have to go it alone at her flat or join me on the road. Neither was ideal when she wasn’t 100% better and 100% herself yet, but I could see and feel her desire to be with me.

“The decision is yours, Abby. I’ll sign you off to go as long as you follow the regime that I give you,” the doctor instructed firmly.

My girl looked to me again for a definitive answer.

I asserted so much confidence on her that she didn’t consider decisions for herself. I couldn’t answer for her this time and communicated that with a quick shake of my head in the negative. She had to make this decision on her own without my influence, since it was her health and what she felt most comfortable with.

*

         Abby took her time, trying to decide based on a number of unknown variables. This journey could potentially set her back health wise. If she experienced any pain from the changing environments and the pressures of traveling itself, those could make her worse off. If she remained in London, she’d spend most of the time alone without daily companionship, her biggest fear.

         No matter how much comforting and support I gave her, she feared both possibilities. The doctor had properly scared her, but gave us a regime and treatment plan to follow if she decided to join the tour.

Abby seemed quiet and subdued when I got her back to my flat from the hospital and all the instructions about her health. Dr. Sherpada cleared her for the first flight from London to Los Angeles in three days’ time. He wanted her on the first flight back if she showed any signs of trauma after seeing a medical professional in America. I put Emma on stand-by to come and collect Abby in Los Angeles if her health got in the way of her continuing with me.

         “Em, sis, if I’d another option, I wouldn’t ask this of you,” I pleaded into my mobile in the waiting room while Luke got details from the doctor and kept Abby calm.

         “Tom, you’re golden. I care about Abby too, she’s a friend.”

         I breathed a sigh of relief with Emma’s willingness to be a backup. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Em.”

         “Rubbish, dear brother. You’d come up with another solution. Now explain it one more time, so I can write—hey, you need someone to take over for me when I go to that seminar, if I need to collect Abby. That seminar, I can’t get out of that, on the 20th.”

         “No, no, no… got that. We fly out to LA on the 10th of April, scheduled to be there until the 15th, before going to Moscow.”

         “World Traveler… how do you say all that without coming off like an arse?”

         Laughing, I replied, “I’m that good.”

         “There he is!” Emma took the mickey, just like Abby did. “So you’ll need me at any point during LA, yeah?”

         “Yeah, yeah… I’ll let you know as soon as we land- how Abby’s doing.”

         Emma hummed in acknowledgment before asking, “When are you back in London?”

         “The premiere is on the 19th. I think my flight lands on the 18th.”

         “Cutting it fine, aren’t you, Hiddleston?”

         “Living on the edge, actually, Hiddleston.”

         Abby retreated to her side of my sofa with her pillows and pink duvet after she agreed to go after all of the doctor’s warnings and all possible scenarios. I went to her, to curl around her since it was what she needed most. I urged her from her corner of the sofa forward to fit in behind her snuggly between my legs. “Talk to me, Abby. I don’t like when you get this quiet.”

         She burrowed into my embrace, seeking refuge from the storm the doctor created in her head. “It’s just… it’s stirred… he- the doctor, he made me think of things.”

         “Baby, you don’t have to go if you’re too afraid of the effects. I can—“

         “No, Tom, that’s not it. It’s not—I want to go. I want to be with you. He made me think about… my mum.” She spoke so quietly, guarding against the wounds that she’d avoided by speaking them out loud all this time.

         I kissed the top of her head and stroked my hand down her hair in my special way to ward off the hurt. Nothing would cure the gaping hole where her family should be, but I wanted to. “I’m here.”

         “She… my mum… she wanted, she had big dreams. She set them all aside for my dad. She was going to travel and meet with lots of musicians… produce music. She had a passion for music that—she loved it. But dad got hurt on duty, and she put everything aside for him.”

         “That’s noble of her,” I commented when she went quiet. All this was more than I’d ever heard from her about her parents. She always kept all the trauma to herself.

         “Mum never regretted it. She’d rather—would—she loved my dad more than music. But she told me about all the places she wanted to go, with the career she gave up to care for my dad.”

         “What did she say?”

         “She wanted me to travel, to see all the places that she didn’t. We never had money to go far… Scotland was as far as we got. I think that’s mostly the reason she planned to move with me to London, to see me succeed, to see me beyond what she could accomplish. And be there for me, if I didn’t.”

         I hesitated in poking at the hurts Abby had buried long before she met me. I couldn’t be sure what would hurt her, and tear her from this quiet reflection into the dark abyss of pain. Instead of speaking, I rubbed my hand over her back, giving her enough time and tactile encouragement as I could.

         “I never thought that I’d have the opportunity to do this, to travel outside of England. You and Luke… you both wanted to make this happen, and the doctor almost took it away. I was scared of flying, of leaving, of being away from home… but then I was faced with the possibility of it being taken away again when it was all my mum wanted for me. I don’t want to be alone and I want to do this for you, for my mum, for me.”

         “You will. I’ll make it happen, baby,” I whispered into the crown of her head.

         “Something the doctor said made me think of it. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

         “You’re not, I’m here. I won’t let you be alone again.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > **T Hiddy Girl** @thiddygirl – April 9
> 
> _Hot on the heels of the Avengers Assemble tour, be sure to check here for news on @twhiddleston #Lokiontour_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 10
> 
> _THiddy ladies/gents- opening the rainbow bridge to @twhiddleston- send your deepest questions- He’ll answer 10 of my faves #LokiObeys_

I threw my head back and bellowed out a laugh when I got the text notification from Abby’s official Public Eye twitter account,  _thiddygirl_. She and Luke were finalizing all the details for our flight first thing the next morning, and how to handle the influx of questions, how and when best to answer. He had all the Marvel accounts announce her online presence as a representative of me.

Luke meticulously promoted her presence, by having my handle follow her and retweet from her about her purpose for the next month. Within 24 hours of the release, the account gained more than 12,000 followers, with more followers joining every hour.

“Loki won’t obey,” I called with a chuckle in my voice through my flat, loud enough to be heard in the living room from my office. I hit retweet before shutting my mobile down. I’d just gotten off the phone, setting up a surprise for Abby after we lost Luke for the evening when her tweet sounded.

“He will if he knows what’s good for him,” Abby’s cheeky reply came, followed by Luke laughing along.

I followed through to their huddle on the sofa over Abby’s new laptop to use for the tour. They were checking to be sure that the tweet posted to the other social media accounts automatically when I entered. To Luke, I said, “Don’t encourage her sassy behavior, she’ll only repeat it.” Stroking her hair, I leaned over the back of the sofa, clutched a fistful of her strands, and guided her head back for her to look up at me. I kissed her before she could say anything more.

“She’ll keep you in line,” my publicist dished back to me as I sat on the sofa beside my girl, my arm slung over her shoulders.

“And the truth comes out… you’ve hired my girl to slap my knuckles with a ruler when I don’t behave.”

Abby quickly piped in, “Who said anything about your knuckles?”

Luke got to his feet in a hurry. “That’s my cue to go.”

Abby and I couldn’t help but laugh at his rash response to our flirting, but followed his lead and got to our feet.

He regained his composure and collected all of his business things, having spent the last hour with Abby. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, car’s coming round at five.”

Collectively the three of us crossed to the front door to see Luke out and wish him a good night. When the door shut behind him, I pulled Abby into my arms. I gave her a hearty kiss and squeezed her bum. Smiling into her squeal of surprise, I enquired with a raised eyebrow, “Loki obeys? Was that your input or Luke’s?”

“I may,” she coquettishly lifted her good arm to hook around my neck, the hurt one sticking out behind me. “have gone a little rogue on that one, but it fit.”

“Minx,” I muttered into another kiss. Unlike Loki, Abby submitted to me, melted and molded herself against me. She obeyed the caress of my lips on hers, my mouth urging hers open, my tongue dipping inside hers to rub and taste her. Before we got too caught up in our affection, before we passed the point of no return, I broke our kiss. “How successful would Tom be in getting Abby to obey him now?”

She pretended to think with a glance upwards and hummed in the back of her throat. “Without broken bones?”

“I’ll risk it… taking my life in my hands for a surprise for my Abby.”

“You’re flirting with danger, baby.”

“So be it. Go put on something pretty, I’m taking my girl out,” I asserted. Juliette located Abby’s keys to her flat from the theatre, and earlier that evening, we’d fetched some of Abby’s clothes to pack for the junket.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked me, nothing short of suspicion and doubt on her face.

“It’s a surprise, implies secrecy, love.”

“Just tell me,” she pressed with a pout.

Shaking my head, I mimed sealing my lips to her disappointment. My girl never did well with surprises, her impatience blocking true spontaneity. “Baby, you asked something of me, I’m just following through,” I stated, turning her by the shoulders towards my bedroom and playfully swatting her bum to get her to move.

She groused and mumbled her annoyance under her breath, stomping silently against the hardwood floor. It would take a bit of coaxing to pull her from her mood with me, but I knew I could once I got her on the tube. I watched her from the doorway of my bedroom for a few moments as she moved independently around the room.

In the weeks since the accident, she’d grown more and more comfortable in my flat, maybe even more so than before the memory loss. The clean slate had done us both good. In moving some of her belongings from her flat into mine, she looked even more at home. Abigail came to me, stumbled into my life at the worst time, but she fit right in and though we’d only known each other ten months, I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

*

I’m not one to throw my celebrity around, take advantage of it or flaunt it in any capacity. Good luck and fortune came my way, but both could easily be taken away. I used a hired car that I paid for to go to the airport. I bought my own clothes unless a designer wanted me to sponsor them at an event or appearance. I couldn’t deny that I possessed a certain amount of privilege. At thirty, I owned my own flat and car and had disposable income. But I also recognized how finicky Hollywood was, attention spans were short and the next sensation could be right around the corner. My good fortune could disappear within the flap of a butterfly’s wing.

Sometimes, on the rare occasion, I called in favors or used my name, and I had for the date night I planned with unsuspecting Abby. Getting her ready and out the door onto the tube seemed a simple enough task, but became harder than an unstudied for maths examine from a class that I took over ten years ago. Passionate and stubborn, Abby didn’t follow along with a mere promise of something she’d enjoy and asked for specifically.

I propped her up in the luggage area in the back of the tube car and trapped her there. Her arms folded under breasts and she tsked loudly at me. I snickered at her indignance, my focus on re-earning her affection. “Why do you fight me so, baby?”

Her response was simply a look that would kill.

“Abigail,” I murmured under the mechanical garbled voice announcing the next stop along London’s underground system. I buried my face against her neck, throwing down the gauntlet of turning her mood on its head. “Date night, my little minx. I’m told women fancy a bit of romance.” My lips massaged her skin, her throat always sensitive.

Except tonight.

“Knowledge is romantic,” she told me with all the attitude in place.

Chuckling, I resurfaced from seducing her neck to find her faux stoic expression. I was wearing down her mood as loathe as she was to let me in on it. “Do you want me to ruin the surprise? I was rather proud to come up with the idea.”

“You? Proud?” Classic Abby throwing my ego back at me to keep me grounded. Another layer of her annoyance with me for a surprise peeled back.

“That’s my girl. Kiss me,” I stated locking her in my gaze, hoping to distract from her dig for information.

Her head tilted as she stared at my lips, a mixture of contemplation and playful spite. She leaned forward from her perch as if to follow my instruction. Before our lips met, she asked, “Did you really think that would work?”

Without breaking the moment, our mouths slanted as if to meet, I admitted, “Not at all, but if I keep you distracted long enough to get where we’re going, all your playing me like a flute will be in vain.”

A triumphant smirk graced her face and she snapped back, “Oh, Hiddleston, I’m not blowing you anytime soon unless you tell me where we’re going.”

I laughed, smashing my lips against hers. With her fiery tenacity and sassy sense of humor, I couldn’t help myself from tasting her, even while having a laugh. As much as she verbally fought me, her lips responded to me positively. I commented after pulling back slightly, “You do make things interesting.”

Abby’s knuckles gently brushed along my cheekbones in a gesture so tender, I nearly disembarked at the next stop to take her back to my flat. All her attitude of the moment forgotten. “Abby still finds you interesting, Hiddleston.”

“Third person again?”

“A prelude for tonight when you’ve charmed me out of my knickers.”

“Are you planning on enjoying our date that much?”

She batted her eyelashes at me.

My hand tucked beneath the denim skirt of her A-line sleeveless dress and snuck between her thighs, starting at her knee and sliding upwards. “How negotiable are you on taking up the flute again?” I alluded.

“Inspire me, Hiddleston,” she hinted, referring to our date tonight.

Combing my fingers through her loose-hanging hair and closing the small distance between us, I promised, “You deserve the best, and the best you’ll have.”

She hugged me with her good arm and relented to have a good time on the surprise I’d planned for her.

*

Covent Garden became a ghost town after six on a Sunday night. All the shops closed at least an hour before and all the workers had gone home to enjoy what was left of their weekend. The court became a place of trespass instead the congregation center. Our footsteps echoed around the empty square, the remains of the day fading to gray and discarded rubbish that people left behind. Eerie, but full of promise of the week and life ahead.

Tugging Abby along with me, her hand clasped in mine, I led her to one of her favorite spots in London, and one we’d been before, Laduree. She noticed a light on before I could point it out. She squealed with excitement, and the current of her vitality soared with it. I expected her to run across the square to press her nose to the window, instead she pressed into me.

“Did you do this? Is this my surprise?”

I smiled into her upturned face, “You don’t know what I’ve done yet.”

“Laduree should—is closed… but the light—how did you do this?” Electric happiness set her eyes alight and her smile bright. “How?”

Tipping her head back with my hands, I looked deeply into her eyes. “You asked me to, my darling girl.”

The amazement didn’t fade at all, but Abby showed her graciousness in more subtle ways too. Her arms curled around my waist, bringing us closer together. Her teeth worried at her lower lip and could almost feel her rocking onto the balls of her feet. “I meant, when they were open, when we had time… maybe when we got back.”

Hooking strands of her hair behind her ear, I said, “I didn’t want to wait that long… not to enjoy a night out with my girl, just us.”

“But how?”

I led her the last few paces to the door and knocked on the window. “Called in a few favors and promised to throw a lot of money at them.”

Jacques, the server I’d contacted, emerged and opened the narrow, green-painted door for Abigail and me. He offered his hand to shake and introduced himself. “Mr. Hiddleston, it’s a pleasure,” he began with a delicate French accent. “I’m Jacques, allow me to show you to your table.”

“I believe Abigail,” I nodded to my petite girlfriend “knows the way.” It was a slight reminder that this night and arrangement was for her and her benefit.

“Of course, monsieur. She is our guest. Please,” he waved to the stairs away from the shop floor to the restaurant above.

Abby’s grip on my arm didn’t loosen at all, her excitement, confusion and surprise tighten it all the more. Dazed and gobsmacked, she began her ascent, now dragging me along with her, with Jacques following behind us. When we reached the second level, timidity slowed her steps and she appeared almost embarrassed. Bypassing another smiling server, Abby hid herself away in the back booth, using me as a human shield beside her, cocooning her in the corner. She hooked both her arms around mine, as much as she could manage with her cast, snuggling closer to my side.

“Thomas, what’s all this about?” she whispered, her blue eyes searching mine for an answer.

“Us,” I simply said, hooking my fingers under her chin. “With the junket and all the flying from one end of the world to the other, there won’t be a lot of time left for just us, to be only us. I’ll be ‘the one playing Loki’ and you’ll be ‘thiddygirl’… tonight, it’s just Tom and Abby.”

“I fancy that. I fancy this place, but I fancy you most of all.”

My eyes implored her to remember that. “Abigail, my beautiful girl, I want you to remember how much I love you. Fulfilling this part of my contract with Marvel, it’ll be difficult to—“

“Tom, I know. Your focus will be on your work, where it needs to be.”

Our servers respectfully gave us a few moments of privacy for this chat, their presence lingering on the other side of a wall between us and them. They didn’t listen in on the discussion, but granted us our seclusion for a few moments.

“I can’t have you thinking that I care less about you when I get busy.”

Contentedly, she smiled a serene and relaxed expression. “You’re letting me tag along. I won’t forget that part.”

“But Abby—“

“Shh,” she said, placing her fingers over my lips to quiet my protestations. “I won’t feel neglected. I had my time with you and I was your first priority. Now your other love gets center stage. I get it, Tom.”

I confirmed when she took back her fingers, “You’re okay with my priorities shifting.”

One shoulder lifted in resigned agreement. “It’ll take some adjusting to.” She giggled to herself, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “I like being your number one, to be honest, but I can’t always be.”

I watched as her expression faded to something else, something darker, indescribable. “What is it, baby?”

The thought flitted down her face from her eyebrows to her eyes, then her nose wrinkled slightly before dropping to her lips. It played around her mouth a bit before she blurted, “Promise me something.” She fought it, she hadn’t wanted to request anything, but there it was between us.

“If I can promise it, it’s yours.”

Despite the disappointment in herself by burdening me with a task, she soldiered on. The fingers of her good hand flexed around my arm, a clue into her anxiety about the coming weeks. “I don’t need a lot, Tom… I swear I wouldn’t ask it—but I need ten minutes of uninterrupted time for us. I don’t need grand romantic gestures and I don’t need to be a public presence in your life. I need my hand in yours, or a chat up to connect, or a kiss… I need the reminder that we’re in love and that I matter to you.”

She wasn’t asking for sexual favors or orgasms or anything like that. She simply asked to be included in my day. She simply asked to matter, and my touch brought her that. She didn’t need much in the sense of romance and dancing and gifts, she just needed a physical reminder that she belonged somewhere.

“Oh, Abigail,” I pulled her into a kiss, a soft, delicious one. “I’ll never be too busy for that. We’ll be beside one another for a lot of this journey. I won’t let you disappear.” I draped my arm around her shoulders to keep her sheltered in my care for her.

The female server we’d passed only a few minutes ago approached our table when she heard our voices die down, from our private chat. “Good evening,” she greeted in an equally soft spoken accented voice as her coworker. “I’m called Michelle and I’ll be serving you.”

Together, Abby and I smiled and greeted the friendly woman. Without reviewing the menu, we ordered our regular choices from when we were secret lovers, sneaking away during breaks in rehearsal. We used to hide in the back in the booth, away from prying eyes, to sneak in a snog or a caress or promises of the wickedly naughty things we’d do to each other when rehearsals were over.

As Michelle disappeared to give Jacques our order to prepare, Abby played with the corner of her napkin, muddling over the evening. “Hiddleston, you haven’t told me how you had time to arrange this. For me.” The shock colored her voice since we didn’t do unique romantic excursions, and she inherently knew that though she didn’t remember specifically.

“Rung them, asked them very nicely and donated handsomely to their journey home to visit family, somewhere in France during the summer.”

Abby looked around the deserted but pristinely set tables around in awe. “Thank you, Tom. This has been generous.” The ‘for me’ was implied but went unspoken, not repeated.

She had me questioning my dating philosophy with her. We did dinners out and the occasional cinema date nights, but overall she was low maintenance. She didn’t love surprises, but she did love being cherished. Perhaps these leisure romantic trips away from reality would be a way to show appreciation for my girl. As she relaxed into me, her good hand kneading my knee unconsciously, I said, “Leave a little mystery and romance to me, my Abby.”

> *
> 
> **Loki’s Goddess Sigyn**  @sigyn1980528 – April 10
> 
> _@thiddygirl can you tell me if @twhiddleston wears boxers or briefs? whats under all that leather? #LokiObeys_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 11
> 
> _@sigyn1980528 I’ll go for the trousers when hes not looking and let you know #LokiObeys #butTomwontstandstill_
> 
> *
> 
> **Baily O’Connor**  @baily1111 – April 10
> 
> _@thiddygirl can I have your job? Whats it like traveling with @twhiddleston? #LokiObeys #toocool_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 11
> 
> _@baily1111 depends. What do you do and would I have to step in for you? #LokiObeys #Tomstealsmyschocolates #notcool_
> 
> *
> 
> **Eric Van Leeuwen**  @evildeadsashw – April 10
> 
> _@thiddygirl is @twhiddleston as mischievous as his counterpart #loki? Where are the horns? #LokiObeys_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 11
> 
> _@evildeadsashw I think they cast @twhiddleston for a reason. #hideskeys the helmets in asgard actually, right? #LokiObeys_
> 
> *
> 
> **Maureen Beuregard**  @beautymeem – April 10
> 
> _@thiddygirl @twhiddleston’s favorite melon? #LokiObeys_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 11
> 
> _@beautymeem Carnegie Mellon #LokiObeys #hemademetypethat_
> 
> *
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 11
> 
> _Uncontrollably excited @twhiddleston’s kitted, on the 1 st plane out of London. 2 biscuits to the correct guess where we’re going #Lokiontour_

“… in twenty minutes,” Luke rattled on from the front seat, examining his wrist watch.

Abigail giggled beside me, scrolling through her Private Eye mobile phone, my mobile sounding with another notification from her. She woke up chipper and ready to face her fear of flying and her first adventure outside England.

I took a minute to breathe and catch my bearings and what I ran headlong into, what my life would become in the next few weeks. For a minute, I ignored Luke’s expectant gaze and another burst of giggling from Abby to center myself. There’d be a lot of pressure and stress ahead of me, both personally and professionally, and the reality hit me, set my head on spin cycle.

“Alright, mate?” Luke asked, turning his body more towards me despite the seatbelt restraining him. His brows knitted together as his eyes surveyed me.

Clearing my throat, I nodded, sitting up in the backseat. London traffic sped by on the motorway beside us and somehow that became a comfort. Life goes on, keeps moving along, much like this tour would truck along until its conclusion and there’d be something else afterwards.

“Uh, yeah, Luke, sorry… turned the page back.”

“With me now?”

“Absolutely. Airport in twenty minutes,” I repeated back to confirm that I was on the same page with him. He wanted Abby to post a picture of me getting on the aeroplane as the start of our journey. “Would you mind handing me a bottle of water please? Abby’s got to take—“

“Brilliant, yeah…” he mumbled rifling through the bag at his feet.

I produced two paracetamol pills from my breast pocket that I’d put in that morning. I also had Abby’s other doctor prescribed treatments in my pockets, her earplugs and eye mask for the flight. A nervous anxiety ran up my spine at the possibility of Abby doing more harm than good by tagging along. I couldn’t see her in pain again, the memory still burned in the front of my mind.

Drawing her attention from her mobile, I gave her the dose as a precaution for the flight ahead. “How’re you, baby? How’s your head?” I leaned over to check her forehead and the small visible bump.

“I’m good, Tom. Nothing hurts. Only nervous…” She placed her hand over her belly. “Fluttering butterflies in here this morning. But that might be how I feel about you.”

“We had a good night.”

She nodded emphatically. “Date night, we should do that… more often.”

“We will…”

“What can I expect from this flying thing?”

“You’ll be distracted by your twitter. When did I hide your keys, minx?”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > **Catherine Wright**  @fast3rcatkillkill – April 11
> 
> _@thiddygirl WHOA! I attend Carnegie Mellon. Has @twhiddleston been here? Lecturer, student, teacher? #LokiObeys #academicdiscipline_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 11
> 
> _@fast3rcatkillkill As a performer, Cheek By Jowel @CbyJ, Cymbeline in 2008. #iwanthisability #amazingmemory #notreallyhisfavemelon_

“Cantaloupe, watermelon, honey dew…” I mused just above a whisper. I traced infinity signs over the outline of Abby’s breasts. “Carnegie Mellon… you know none of these are my own, personal choice.” I flicked open another button of my red plaid shirt that my girl confiscated while we were dressing for our 5500 mile journey. Uncovering the brushed cotton tank underneath, I continued my teasing.

A grin spread across Abby’s face, lighting up the corner we’d taken as ours for the time being. “Care to elaborate?”

“My girlfriend may slug me for being impolite if I do.” I changed the infinity tracing to a ghost of a caress over her left breast, and descending to another button along her belly.

“I think she’s otherwise engaged,” she joked, glancing at the track of my hand over her chest.  “And I can’t tweet about how well acquainted you are with those,” she said quietly.  “Luke would take back my mobile and laptop faster than you can distract me if I did.”

“Luke would have my arse in a sling if I let you.”

Soft. Feathery soft and smooth like a baby’s bottom. Touching Abby’s skin felt like what I imagined an actual glow would feel like if it could be touched, warm, inviting, safe. My eyes watched as my fingertip cascaded and followed the curve of her cleavage, secluded away from other travelers.

We’d found an unfrequented corner in the VIP first class lounge at Heathrow to steal a few moments of private time. Our morning flight, originally scheduled for an 8:10 am takeoff, had been pushed back by an hour. The three of us, Luke, Abby and myself, took full advantage of the breakfast menu and buffet during our delay. When Luke excused himself for the toilet, I’d backed my girl into the corner behind a large green floor plant to hide from onlookers.

Call it my requisite ten minute of uninterrupted Abby time, but I still felt amorous from the night before. I’d strive to give her more than she’d asked when my schedule allowed, naturally, during the coming weeks. If I could relax her before the flight, it would be an added bonus.

Abby giggled as she informed me, “I didn’t wear this tank for you.” As my index finger descended into the v between her breasts, her chest stopped all movement as if she held her breath. The cotton of her tank appeared lower cut since I stood above her, with a clear view of her breastbone down to her blush pink bra.

Tearing my eyes from the tantalizing, mouth-wateringly, gorgeous display of swell of her breasts to her equally beautiful, alluring gaze, I smugly smirked, “But I’m reaping the benefits.”

“We’re in polite company,” she whispered with a twist of regret. She referred to the many business men and women peppering the lounge area, soaking up the free amenities unashamedly.

My hand moved of its own will from her cleavage to cup her left breast, my brain reliving the memory of undressing her only a few hours ago after our date to Laduree. My girl didn’t shy away or shrink from the intimate touch, instead heavily relied on the wall at her back to keep her upright. “I can be very impolite in polite company.”

The giggle returned, the muted happy sound bubbling up from inside her, but maintaining our cover. “I know. I remember.”

“Do you?” I squeezed her flesh in my palm while coaxing her nipple to harden under the circles I drew around it through the cotton.

She bit her lower lip and compressed her thighs together under my expert manipulation, knowing just where and when and how to touch her to get the greatest pleasure. She nodded, briefly closing her eyes to just concentrate on the feel of one hand playing her, stroking her, arousing her. “Northern line, between Goodge and Euston…” She moaned when she felt my other hand rising along the inside of her thigh. “You-you-you touched me…” she sighed.

Leading her, I prompted, “Where did I touch you, baby?” I knew which memory she recalled and I felt encouraged enough to repeat it, provoked by her bowing into my hands.

“On the train,” she quipped, regaining some of her wits while I did my best to scatter them.

Chuckling, I dipped my tongue in her ear to refocus my efforts, once, then twice. “That’s my minx, taking the mickey when I’m doing my best to seduce her.”

Abby’s good hand meandered down from my neck along my shoulder and my arm to linger at my waist. Then it finally moved around to my back into the pocket of my jeans, rewarding me with a bum squeeze all her own. Like spurs to a stallion, I charged forward, my hips thrusting into hers. “Seduce me, my beautiful man.”

With a heated whisper against her jaw, I asked, “How did I touch you, baby?” My voice dropped below a baritone for secrecy and to appeal to Abigail.

“Fingers…” I pinched her nipple with one hand and grazed her core with the other. Her entire body tensed with her arousal. Her breathing staggered and her good hand flexed around the flesh of my ass. “Tom… fingers… on me…”

“Yes,” I growled against her neck. “Tell me and I’ll do it again.” Showing her good faith, I began unfastening her jeans to slip my hand inside.

“Fingers,” she gasped when she felt my hand on her bare midriff. I’d lifted her tank up to get the snap of her jeans, and my fingers grazed her heated skin. The muscles of her abdomen contracted like a burn along her flesh, but she was feeling nothing but pleasure.

The snap of her jeans came free and the catch of her zip slid easily open. Her knickers accommodated my questing fingers, the cotton hugging me to her. The flat of my palm followed down along the curve to her core.

“Come… you made…” her head fell back against the wall, her chest heaved with the effect of talking through her desire. “You made me come – around your fingers…”

“That’s my girl,” I complimented as I ducked below her chin to leave a light bite on her right breast just above the cup of her bra, not enough to leave a mark, but enough for her to know that our passion for one another was never in short supply. My passion for her would never fade, wane or dissolve.

Abby’s pelvis lifted, encouraging my resting fingertips to lower a fraction to the top of her slit. She whined in the back of her throat, her arousal fueling her impatience. The color rose in her face and her temperature soared. In heated moments like this, I would swear she possessed all the beauty life had to offer.

Slipping further along her mound, I nibbled at her lower lip, delighting in how wet she was for me. “Open your eyes, baby,” I told her as the heel of my hand made a circular motion over her sex. Her eyes were ablaze with arousal, her lips quivering in anticipation of another kiss or another wave of pleasure at my hand to wash over her.

“Abigail, there are these… wonderfully odd moments,” I told her with my forehead pressed to hers. My forefinger and middle finger pressed against her clitoris, moist with want and distended with desire. She nearly danced on the balls of her feet with the subtle touch where she needed me. “These moments come unexpectedly without any warning or any great impetus.”

Her flesh around my fingers warmed with more fluid as I played her sweet torture spot, circling, flicking, caressing, pressing. My words only aided her climb to the edge of euphoria. “In these moments, whenever they happen, life reminds me just how lucky I am to have you. I do have you, don’t I, Abby?”

Breathless, aroused but in tune with me, Abby confirmed it. “Yes! I’m your Abigail.”

While I continued to please her with my touch, I intimated my point, “All kitted out, our cases in the foyer last night… it struck me again. I have you, I have my Abigail.”

Abby’s jaw dropped as I pressed two fingers inside of her, her core rippling around the intrusion. Her body sagged into me more than the wall, a slave to my penetrative touch. She moaned a sinful, “Oh my God, Tom… please…”

She let her head fall to my shoulder as I sensuously made love to her with my fingers, in and out in even strokes. Her breath against my neck drove me on to keep her on the plateau of pleasure, extend her enjoyment as long as possible. Her pleasure became my own with each moan, each gasp, each sway of her hips.

The mounting pressure of my cock behind one mere zipper felt fit enough to pop, but not enough to stop my efforts on Abby and her imminent climax. Her eagerness to surrender to her approaching orgasm gripped her hands tighter on me, her good hand splayed along the small of my back, her hurt one held my arm above the elbow. She felt limited in how much she could reciprocate with her cast. To compromise, we’d taken turns pleasing each other after our date, the night before.

“Please, Tom… please – make me come.” Her plea echoed inside my head like a siren’s call. Her walls clamped at random around my fingers. She was already close to her crisis.

“Anything for you, my Abby,” I huffed roughly. The pads of my fingers found her g spot automatically and brushed it in time with the strokes of my thumb on her clit. Within seconds, I had her whimpering into a kiss to muffle the sounds flowing out of her.

Her orgasm claimed her with such force that her hips thrust forward when her walls cinched my fingers, deep inside her core. For a moment there was a pause, and then her walls spasmed with her release. The noise that sounded from her was a cross between a scream of surprise and a guttural exhale, stifled my mouth on hers in a fantastic kiss.

Holding this woman after being intimate with her, sharing something so sacred, was what I lived for. This gorgeous creature allowed me to the greatest privilege of being with her at her most vulnerable. The swell of honor filled my chest with pride and more adoration for my Abigail.

When Abby recovered herself, she straightened her clothes with a bit of help from me with the buttons. She wore a satisfied smile, a pinkish flush, and an air of relaxation. “My beautiful man, you do put me in compromising situations.”

I sucked my soaked fingers into my mouth, licking Abby’s essence, savoring the taste of her. I winked over my fingers.

Without hesitation, Abby caressed her good hand over the bulge in my trousers with amazement. “Time to repay the favor, I reckon,” she said slyly, dropping to her knees in front of me. She left small kisses along the ridge of my cock on the outside of my trousers, her fingers unbuttoning the fly one handed.

“You don’t have to do this now, baby.”

“I happen to enjoy playing the flute,” she quipped, alluding to our joke from the night before.

Laughter erupted from me. I tried to pull Abby to her feet, but she resisted. “I meant, not here, you little minx.”

“Here is better than the plane. I don’t think the other people on the plane will appreciate it as much as you will.” She tsked as my fly gave her some trouble one handed. “You wanna help me out here, Mr. Woodwind?”

I helped her with my trousers because she didn’t seem to want to back down. “You’re never going to let me live that down, the flute thing, huh?” I pushed my trousers and pants down over my bum, to allow her access to my hardened flesh.

“I have an urge, my beautiful man.” Eagerly, Abby took my length in her good hand and laid a kiss on the head. “An urge to play…”

All thoughts disappeared from my mind in that instant when she left open mouthed kisses along the sensitive flesh. Placing my hands upon the wall above her head for purchase, I closed my eyes and let sensation overtake me. Her lips and tongue massaged my cock on either side, moistening and lubricating as she followed along each patch of skin and vein.

Her kisses graduated to extended licks, her tongue running the length from root to tip. She swirled her tongue around the head before wrapping her lips around me, the warmth igniting my blood.

“Abby… mmmmmmm…”

She took my cock into her mouth as far as she could, before pulling back slowly with a slight suction. Her hand held the base, adding to the enormous pleasure of her mouth and tongue. The movements of going in and out of her lips, her tongue along the ridge on the bottom, were slow and measured at first, but she found ways to change it up by flicking the tip or moaning around me.

“God… Abby… fuck- just there…”

My breath hiccupped in my throat, I felt Abby’s bad hand tracing patterns along my balls lightly, adding another layer of pleasure. Peeling my eyes open, I watched my girl ride me with her mouth. I groaned at the visual to accompany my mounting my gratification, one hand grasping her hair.

I tried not to… God, I tried… to passively let her pleasure me, but she was excellent at sucking me off. My hips gyrated forward the more she hollowed her cheek. I felt the orgasm building at the base of my cock, spiraling, coiling, and accumulating to a fantastic end. My vision blurred when she glanced up at me through her lashes.

“-Coming… fuck Abby – coming…”

She deep throated my cock, the pressure all the way around me sending my pleasure skyrocketing. With another moan from her pushed me over the edge and I came, spilling into my love’s mouth. She couldn’t get enough, swallowing it down, licking up all the remnants of my desire for her.

* * *

“I’ve been looking for you for the past ten minutes, mate,” Luke complained running into Abby and I as we made our way across the lounge from our hiding place.

“We were just… there…” I pointed over my shoulder absently. “Watching Top Gear on the telly.” I avoided his eyes as I lied through my teeth. “You ready?”

Luke, unfortunately, hadn’t been born yesterday or blind to Abby’s flush. “That’s how it’s gonna be, isn’t it?”

“They’re boarding,” I subverted again. Abby couldn’t look at Luke either and hid her face behind my shoulder. I slapped my friend along his shoulder and nodded towards the exit. “We can go. We heard the call to board.”

The three of us made our way through the terminal to our gate, Luke leading the way. We did a tiny update for social media with a picture of me in front of the window pointing to the plane that we were about to board.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard flight AT5502 from London to Los Angeles. I’m your captain, Lewis Cole…”

Abby chose the window seat during the announcement, and I could see the worry etched on her face. The corners of her mouth curved down in a frown and her eyebrows were set in a straight line. Her eyes took on that look of sadness, the wide doe eyed sadness, that usually meant that she was about to cry.

“…apologize for the slight delay. We should arrive at Los Angeles Airport in approximately eleven hours and fifteen minutes, landing just after noon local time. So sit back…”

I filed in next to her and told her, “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s normal.”

Her eyes swung from the ceiling of the aircraft where the sound of the captain’s routine and well-rehearsed speech came from, and then back to me, then up again.

“That’s just routine, to make sure we’re on the right flight.”

“He does know where we’re going, right?” she asked nervously.

“Yes,” I confirmed with a smile. “He’s making sure the passengers aren’t confused and haven’t boarded the wrong aeroplane.”

“Does that happen?”

Luke sat down across the aisle from me, next to a portly older businessman type who had been assigned the window seat on their side of the aisle. As Luke buckled himself in, he peered over, “Alright there, doll?”

I nodded and answered for her. “She’ll be fine, just an attack of nerves.”

“Tom?” her plaintive voice said when the aircraft made some kind of humming sound in preparation for flight. “What’s that?”

“It’s fine. Just the plane getting ready for takeoff,” I assured her, taking her hand in mine.

Abby turned quiet about four hours into the flight. She turned down two offers of refreshments and the meal with a shake of her head. When the plane shook or adjusted turbulently through the clouds, her grip tightened, but she otherwise stayed silent. No chatter of nervousness or nudging me for words of encouragement. She stared out the window listlessly, tracing the outline of the clouds with her eyes.

Then she winced, an unconscious grimace. Her face crumpled in an instant, her nose wrinkled, and her breath caught. It all happened within a moment, but I’d been watching her profile and caught it.

“What is it, Abby? What’s happened?” I asked a little over a whisper, turning towards her. I unfastened the buckle of my seatbelt at my waist to tend to her, whatever it was.

My girlfriend pulled her gaze from the clouds and she let me see her dulled eyes and the pain she felt. “My head hurts, Tom.” She let herself sag against me for a moment, her head on my shoulder.

The misery in her voice, in those four words, pained me, stirring guilt inside my gut for making her do this before she was ready. I wrapped both arms around her for comfort, to try and erase the pain in her head. Helplessness seized and squeezed my heart in its nasty grip, and wouldn’t release enough for me to feel my legs. “I’m sorry, baby… so sorry.” I cradled my girl in the crook of my arm, hoping to ease some of her pain by stroking her hair.

Luke determined from my huddle with Abby and how we’d situated ourselves that something was wrong. From across the narrow aisle, he asked, “Everything alright?”

Over my shoulder, I replied, “She’s got a bad head. I think the pressure’s gotten to her.” I turned my attention back to my immediate concern, “What can I do for you, baby? Can I distract you?”

Distracting Abby from the intense pain in her head rapidly became a futile effort. I tried talking, but the conversation deteriorated into me talking at her, a monologue about the movie and about the different cities we’d be staying in support of the Avengers, a three week journey. The migraine stole her ability to concentrate or speak clearly without pausing or the pain interrupting her speech pattern.

I offered to watch a movie or television program with her, but that became a wasted activity too. She didn’t have the energy to focus or to ignore the pounding in her head. As she usually did when she was hurt or upset or confused, she pulled into herself, clammed up, shut everyone out, including me.

Eventually, I had her take another dose of the paracetamol, the pain killer the doctor prescribed to manage any side effects of flight pressure. She took them without a word, and I doubted its effectiveness with the severity of her headache.

“Luke, would you- may I impose on you please?” I asked after Abby tried reading, only to stare at the pages. Reading to her didn’t ease her discomfort either.

Luke set the book he was reading aside, undid his seatbelt and stood up. “Sure, mate. What can I do?”

“Would you turn down Abby’s seat so she can lie down?”

“Yeah, she’s not better?” The concern shown in the knit of his eyebrows. “The pills?”

I shook my head as I got to my feet. “Abby, sweetheart, Luke and I,” I indicated when her eyes turned and tried to focus on me, “will help you turn your seat down. Maybe the pressure will ease if you nap?”

She nodded sadly, and found her way into my arms, nuzzling against my chest. Even the slight movement seemed to aggravate her head, when I maneuvered the pair of us into the aisle to make room for Luke to turn the first class seat into a bed, a relatively easy procedure. When he finished, he said while moving back into his own seat, “Next time, I get to hold the beautiful woman.”

Abby felt too sick to appreciate the smooth compliment, but I thanked him enough for the both of us while I helped Abby settle on the bed-like-seat. From her bag in the overhead compartment, I got her pillow and duvet that she refused to leave behind. Tucking her up, I sat beside her and stroked her hair in the hopes it would make her feel better in some small way.

Long flights didn’t bother me, flying didn’t scare me. I’d normally sit back with a book or a script, catch some needed sleep depending on the flight schedule, or listen to my iPod on random for hours on end. I couldn’t tear my attention for my girlfriend for this flight though. She had me itching to land in Los Angeles as soon as possible.

With every stroke on her hair or massage along her neck, I wished her some relief from the pressure in her head. Mercifully she slept for some of the duration, but when she woke again, the headache still pained her. I worried that this would mean more pain or lasting damage from the accident. It didn’t bode well for the three weeks ahead and next ten plus plane rides in our immediate future.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a reason why the premiere isn’t handled with any great detail. I just don’t want to spoil the fun! You’ll read if you stick with me beyond this chapter. 

Kevin Feige took risks. The man responsible for much of the Marvel Cinematic Universe grabbed life and chance by the scruff and bulldozed ahead. He grew from the boy in school, nipping his lunch money to buy the next issue of Spiderman or Captain America (or Batman, but keeps that fact in his back pocket) to the president of a major film studios that produced movies based on his beloved comics. Passion drove him, motivating others to help recreate his vision. Determination, passion and a die-hard spirit led him to become head of an empire.

The producer also recognized that he couldn’t do it alone. He surrounded himself with people as smart as, if not, smarter than he and creators with far more talent than he had with his amateur comic book scribbling on the weekends when he was a teenager. During the summer of 2010, already well-immersed in Phase One and starting work on Phase Two of Marvel’s Cinematic Universe, the CV of one Daniel Woo popped up in Kevin’s email. Twenty-four year old Berkeley University graduate with a BFA in Film and Graphic Design, Dan applied for an internship with Marvel Studios.

The young man overshadowed his competition with his achievements, honors and extracurricular activities, and clearly stood out among the crowd as over qualified for a meager intern position of coffee and script runner. But the wording in the CV reminded Kevin of his younger self, the fierce yearning to be a part of the organization that Dan held such regard for won him an interview. Kevin recognized a fanboy and the obsession because they were his own qualities that he once possessed- still possessed proudly.

And so, he took that chance on an unknown laid back yet flamboyant young man from Santa Cruz, California, assigning him to menial tasks at first for very little pay. Kevin took Dan on, and by the Thor premiere in Sydney Australia in April 2011, the young man had proven his worth in less than a year as a valuable member of the team, at a much higher pay grade.

Dan became the man in charge of the Marvel invited cast and crew, seeing to their every need, want, and frivolous request. He meticulously coordinated all the arrivals for the first city of a junket tour (all arriving within a three hour window) and had transportation available to the Four Seasons Hotel.

It was Dan’s responsibility to organize and deal with any and all contingencies that come up with so many people involved. When Chris Evans, too wired for sleep, wanted to play miniature golf at three in the morning after the Hollywood premiere of Captain America, Dan delivered him with a six pack of Heineken to a place willing to open for the handsome heartthrob.

When Scarlett had an urge to bake before the red carpet of Iron Man 2, Dan came through in a pinch and found a restaurant to lend their kitchen to the movie star for an afternoon. Dan had churches, hospitals, pizza places, salons, arcades, bowling alleys, bars, rooftop restaurants, clothes designers, veterinarians, luggage stores, strip clubs and lounges, airlines, bookstores, and everything else on speed dial, prepared for anything thrown at him at any time in any major city in the world. He did it all discreetly with a Red Bull in hand.

As I helped Abby disembark from the airline, I thought that I might need to use Dan to find her a doctor. I had her under my arm, grateful to arrive at our destination after so many hours of worry, hoping that being back on the ground would be better for her head.

I said to Luke along our walk to the rendezvous with the handler, “I don’t like that she’s still hurting.”

Luke nodded, sparing another look at Abby. “Dan?”

I nodded.

“I’ll take her to a clinic or a doctor while you’re—“

“No, please!” Abby interjected, the first words she’d said in hours.

“Baby, we’re only worried about you.”

“I- don’t… I- no doctor.”

“I’m not going to argue with you when you feel so poorly, but I’d rather you see a doctor about this—“

Squinting from the pain, she said, “No. No doctor. I can’t—“

Luke conceded when we both saw the fear in her eyes. “It’s alright, doll. We’re thinking ahead. We’d like to see you out of pain.”

Adamantly, she repeated, “No doctor. A meal, a sleep and more paracetamol and I’ll nip it.”

I reluctantly gave in, “We’ll try your way, baby.” If she didn’t show improvement by the next day, I’d give Dan a ring.

Luke and I both understood her vehemence against doctors and hospitals. Her avoidance stemmed from the traumatic memories of her mum and dad and the people from her past that didn’t come back, heal or get better by visiting medical professionals. We dropped the subject quickly this time, but knew Dan was a phone call away if her pain didn’t disappear.

Gulping down the last of his third Red Bull as if he owned stock in the company, Dan appeared as calm as a California native and drawled like one too. “How’s your flight, guys? Do you need anything?” He checked us in on his list, and radioed to the Lincoln Town car that we’d arrived to meet the driver in the carpark.

“Fine, thanks,” I said. “You remember my publicist, Luke?”

“Of course, of course…” he said, shaking hands with Luke.

“Listen, this is Abby,” I indicated with a tilt of my head. “She’s part of my publicity team, here with Luke—“

“Oh, Mjolnir!” Kevin never cursed, instead substituted Thor’s hammer as any type of exclamation. “You’re thiddygirl! I follow you on twitter.”

Abby half-waved with her bad hand as a greeting without saying a word. She offered up a weak smile, the only thing her headache would allow.

With a sharp intake of breath, Dan observationally said, “You’ve a cast there. Hand, wrist or arm?” An example of how good this guy was at his job, he’d already started calculating in his head any possibilities that would surround a broken limb on the tour.

“Wrist, three bones,” she replied quietly.

“Ouch,” he exclaimed holding up his own left wrist to show a scar about five inches long on the inside of his arm. “A mishap in the computer lab… don’t ask. A few years ago. But a broken wrist, a lot of blood loss, a surgery and a month in a cast after.”

Abby couldn’t say much, and nodded again politely after touching her fingers to the jagged line of his scar. “I’m sorry.”

The handler felt a kinship to Abby, I could see it, in the way he looked at her and the smile that grew when she touched his arm. They were about the height, and even in her quietness, there was a warmth about her that worked like a magnet. Making friends didn’t come easily for shy Abby, but she wore an air of benevolence that people responded to.

“She’s had a bit of a rough flight. Please forgive us for cutting this short. I’d like to get her some food and some rest back at the hotel.”

“Tom, say no more. I won’t keep you,” he held up his hands and winked at Abby. “It’s the Four Seasons again, guys. One suite, two bedrooms as you requested,” he handed us the room keys, one for me and one for Luke, assuming Abby would be with one of us at all times. “You’ve my cell if you need anything, anything at all.”

He concluded by handing me an itinerary for interviews, photo calls, fan events and the premiere tomorrow night, and gave us directions to meet our car in the carpark. As we turned to leave him, he wished Abby a quick recovery and that he’d catch up with her on twitter

*

> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 12
> 
> _Who guessed LA? Red carpet premiere 2nite. El Capitan Theatre. Come say hi to our fave villain. Tell @twhiddleston I sent ya. #LokiObeys_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 12
> 
> _#AvengersPremiere If you make it to the red carpet and tell @twhiddleston #LokiObeys, we’ll have a keepsake for you. #GoTeamHiddleston_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 12
> 
> _@twhiddleston plays the villain. We need your support/representation on the red carpet for #GoTeamHiddleston #LokiObeys #Assemble4Hiddles_

*

“Luke, I can handle it, I’m fine,” I heard Abby’s objection from the hotel hallway, outside the suite’s main door. Three hours of back to back interviews with my publicist running interference for any personal questions, Luke only allowed questions about the movie, the character or my process in creating Loki. After landing in LA, I had half a day of interviews, a rough few hours sleep, before another round of interviews today. I needed a shower and a wind-down before the red carpet in a few hours. 

Abby had chosen to stay behind in the suite to rest and chase off the lingering headache from the flight yesterday. The headache had been severe enough to exhaust her most of the time since landing in California. Luke snuck away during the last of my interviews to check on her while I finished up.

“Don’t stress yourself, doll.” I heard Luke reply tersely as I entered the suite, ready to shower and dress for the premiere. “This isn’t worth it. It’s only the beginning.” Annoyed authority filled his tone, slightly elevated from his resting voice.

“I’m fine. I’m feeling better and I should do this,” Abby sounded just as harassed as Luke, their argument having gone on for several minutes already, I assumed.

“Tom and I will do it. Stay here and take care of yourself, doll.” I could hear the modulation and Luke’s attempt to disperse whatever they’d been arguing about.

I shut the door with some finality to alert the pair that I’d finished my interviews. Abby stood by the open door to the bedroom that she and I shared, wearing the hotel issue fluffy white dressing gown and a towel wrapped around her wet hair, piled atop her head. Luke stood behind the kitchen island with his laptop, drinking his fifth cup of coffee of the day. Neither noticed my entrance, too involved in their disagreement.

“What’s happened?” I asked both of them, to get their attention and to calm the situation. I’d already guessed at the bone of contention between the two, the need to ask was the attention getter. Big brother Luke felt overprotective of ill Abby, but my stubborn girl couldn’t be dissuaded from her charge.

“Tell your girlfriend that there will be other premieres and she doesn’t have to push herself to do this one.”

“It’s my responsibility to see this film!” she insisted. “My first opportunity to see it, and I’m not missing it.”

“Not at the cost of your health.”

“You hired me to promote him,” Abby pointed at me flippantly, “and I need to see him in this film to do that, at least well enough…”

Luke tried to placate her, “Again, not if you’re ill. We need you for the next few weeks.”

I stepped in closer before the argument morphed into a true battle of wills. Neither one seemed any closer to giving in to the other or resolving the issue. Mediator between one of my best mates and my girlfriend hadn’t been on my CV at the start of the tour but I could don that hat, like I had between her and Benedict back in London.

My warrior heart wanted to defend Abby, but Luke had a point. “Can we take this back a notch before the claws come out?”

Luke spoke up first. “She thinks she’s going to the premiere tonight. Created a little giveaway for your fans.”

Abby’s frustration voiced itself with a little growl. “I’m going to this premiere. It’s what you hired me to do. I do my job!”

“Tom and I will handle the autographed 8x10s while you get some rest, here.” He spread his hand over the counter, slapping the air under his palms, hovering over the countertop.

“No! I can’t have Tom worrying about one more thing. He’s got enough with charming the TMZ guys, the E presenters, interviewers, publications, all those photographers calling his name and whoever else is out there!” She waved widely to the big picture window overlooking Hollywood Boulevard. “I thought of this silly promo, so I’ll handle it.”

“Doll, you’ve been ill since we got here.”

Abby blew out a lungful of exasperated breath before turning to me. “Tell him that I’m feeling better. He’s not understanding.”

Luke rebuked, “I understand perfectly, but I—“

“I think we turned the volume up instead of dialing it back,” I said, stuck between them. I’d been watching their argument like an unbroken tennis volley. Exacerbating or causing another debilitating headache in either one of them wouldn’t help the situation, and knowing both of them as well as I did, neither one would give in.

“She’s so stubborn!”

“He’s so stubborn!”

They shouted at the same time, sounding like children trying to avoid a time out for bad behavior. I couldn’t hide the smile forming on my face at their matching expressions. “Déjà vu,” I commented, bringing some humor back into the room.

Drawn to my girlfriend, I went to her and gave her a small kiss on the lips since we hadn’t seen each other much since landing in Los Angeles 24 hours ago. “Hi, baby,” I told her.

“My beautiful man…”

“How’s the bad head?”

“Almost gone. I’m better. I want to see the film,” she slyly argued her point while answering my question at the same time.

“Let’s not flirt with the bad head coming back. Luke’s probably right, you should rest up—“

“– been resting since I got here. I’m done resting.”

“Is there any point in reasoning with you?”

“No. I’m going whether I go with you or not. If you leave me here, I’ll get down there on my own.”

I smirked, “Abby, you aren’t that adventurous and you wouldn’t know how to get there.”

“But it’s my job, Tom, what I was hired to do. You wouldn’t let anything get between you and your job. Don’t stand in my way now!”

So I compromised. I couldn’t keep Abby from going, her reasoning valid, her professionalism honorable. She and I were similar in our work ethic, surprising after how we got together to begin with. Even though we were all over each other in private, we never let out personal relationship interfere with our dedication to performing our roles. From time to time, we may have undressed each other with our eyes or stolen a kiss or a caress, but we were professional actors during rehearsal and performance.

“Alright, Abby,” I resolved with a sigh.

“Tom!” Luke countered.

I held up my hand to quiet his protestations for the moment to explain my position. “Let’s find a happy medium, something that’ll get us out of this lock of horns.”

Luke agreed with a noise from the back of his throat, a groaning humph.

“Abigail, I’ll watch over you myself—“

“Tom, I—“

“Luke’ll give in a little if you do, love, and this is my call tonight.”

She tsked, “What are your terms, Hiddleston?”

“Luke, would you mind handling the twitter thing for tonight?”

My publicist nodded in ascent when I turned to look at him.

Abby awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture made difficult with her cast and the too big for her dressing gown. She couldn’t be happy with me taking it from her, but I wouldn’t be able to relax at the premiere while worrying about her. Obviously miffed at me, she tilted her head to continue listening, though this hadn’t been the outcome she hoped for.

“Abby, you’ll shadow me, tonight… with the reporters, keep me moving down the red carpet, giving each syndicate and interviewer equal time. I’ll just need you to nudge my elbow after two minutes – subtle so no one is the wiser. If anything happens—“

“I’m fine. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“See that is doesn’t, love. I need you- but should anything happen, I’ll be at your side. Sorted?”

Neither Luke nor Abby seemed completely satisfied with my conclusion, judging by the mumbling almost-agreed sounds. It would have to do with the impossible argument.

“You sided with her, mate,” Luke mocked me when Abby wafted away into the bedroom.

Holding up my hands in defeat, I argued, “I didn’t. She’s not happy with me either.”

“You’re a smart bloke some of the time, Hiddleston,” she called from the bedroom where she’d gone to get prepped and ready.

Taking on a more serious note, Luke lowered his voice to keep Abby from hearing in the other room, “Would you check on her again, just between the two of you…” His expression softened from annoyed employer to big brother. He’d grown attached to Abby in the months before the accident and it only became more pronounced since the accident when faced with her fragility.

“I will, you know, I will.”

“Do that straight person lovers speak thing that you breeders do.”

I laughed louder than I should. “It’s called talking. You could try it instead of stern publicist business comes first raised voice thing.”

Luke waved me away in the direction of the master bedroom of the suite to face the music with my girlfriend.

I followed Abby’s path and closed the door behind me for a bit of privacy to get dressed for the event. My girl had laid her evening’s choice, a modestly cut knee length black dress with capped sleeves, out on the bed with black pumps on the floor. She’d discarded the dressing gown in the bathroom for a black bra and matching knickers. The aroma of peach set my pulse racing, a swift powerful reminder of what my Abby smelled like when she was aroused.

Glancing my way with an almost grin, Abby let that hopeful expression fade into a scowl. We were going to play that game, the one that I’d have to earn her good graces again. She took her hair out of the towel and her damp tendrils fell limply to her shoulders. Scantily clad wet Abigail landed at the top of my sexy list.

“Still angry with me?”

“Does Loki get pissy when he doesn’t get his way?” she asked combing her fingers through her hair.

I chuckled, drawn in by her near nakedness. I held her hips between my hands. “That’s a solid yes.”

She said nothing as she ran a comb through her hair, the little rivulets of water dripping onto my shirt.

“Would you hit the red carpet wearing just this?”

“What kind of statement would that be?” her eyes met mine in the mirror.

“A  _bold_  one. And that I’ve got an insanely beautiful girlfriend and member of my PR team.”

Disappointment marred her expression and her tone. “I’m not your girlfriend tonight. I’m supposed to blend in, not draw attention… Luke coached me back in London for all of it.”

Taking her comb from her hand, I laid it down on the bathroom vanity and turned my girl around to look at me directly. “You’re always mine, baby,” I assured her while stroking her hair in my affectionate way. “This isn’t the right time to go public with our relationship, but, Abby, my Abby, you’re still mine. Whenever someone takes my picture tonight, that’ll remind you that I’m yours. For every person that calls my name tonight, you’ll know that I’m yours. That’s why I gave part of your job over to Luke tonight… Purely selfish of me, to want you near me, to make sure that bad head is gone for good.”

She softened to me then, the last of her mood fell away. “Okay,” she said with a roll of her eyes, a grin and a mimic of her processing of information that she’d taken up since her time as amnesia girl. “You’re forgiven. But I’m fine, the headache’s almost gone.”

“It’s the almost that I’m concerned for, Abby, and I don’t want to see you push yourself.”

“Tom,” she placed her hand on my face and looked deeply into my eyes. “This is nothing. The doctor warned me that it would happen, and it has and I’m okay. The worst is over.”

Feeling overly possessive of her and her health, I wrapped her up in my arms. “I hope that’s true.

*

The premiere seemed to be a rousing success before the movie started. The red carpet ran the length of one city block on both sides of the avenue, but people poured in from both directions for a glimpse of the familiar celebrity faces. The red carpet swarmed with masses of fans, paparazzi, reporters, autograph seekers and tourists, all numbering in the thousands based on the decibel level of the screams. Faces upon faces upon faces piled in and filled in every available inch to squeeze into. Signs and banners added to the hundreds of flashes from cameras with security at every turn.

Our driver crawled at a snail’s pace up to the theatre to avoid bodily harm to the hands and arms clamoring to touch Hollywood royalty. The thrill of seeing the Avengers marquee glittered and flashed, and etched itself into my memory, unmatched by anything that came before it. The premiere was loud. It was chaotic and utter madness, hustling confusion.

And it was awesome, awe-inspiring… crazy astounding.

Behind the tinted windows of the car, I kissed Abby many times as I didn’t have time to dwell on it before I was thrust into the crowds of fans shoving glossies, programs, pictures, notebooks and sharpie pens in my face to sign. I told her that I’d be thinking of her, even though my focus would be elsewhere.

“Will you be alright?” I asked for the seventh time, kissing her good hand. “No dizziness? How’s the pain?”

“Tom, it’s time for you to worry about your other love. I’m fine. I can hide in the crowd.”

“I’ll be right in front of you the entire night,” I reassured her, worried for her anxiety.

“I get the best view, Hiddleston,” she elbowed me.

“If you feel weak or- anything! - pull my hand,” I instructed as I felt the car stop at our unload point, taking note of an ambulance parked across the street and up a bit from where our limousine stopped. I’d get her there if she needed it.

“Okay,” she repeated easily, like she did with me since the accident.

*

> **Beauty Mueller**  @bmueller1 – April 12
> 
> _@thiddygirl Mentioned u 2 @twhiddleston, he gave me 8x10 #awesome #thanks #bestnightEVA_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 13
> 
> _@bmueller1 Brilliant! Chuffed to bits you liked it! #AvengersPremiere #iwantedonetoo #maybenextpremiere_
> 
> *
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 15
> 
> _#AvengersPremiere LA’s been a dream! 1 st premiere done - brilliant! You’ll love @twhiddleston in #Avengers #rootin4Loki #snuckintheback_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 15
> 
> _#Avengers Next stop Moscow! We can’t wait to meet you there! #busyschedule #pressconference #interviews #redcarpet #someonebringcoffee_


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next few will be dense and long, but also cutting through a lot of time. I had to end this earlier than intended to not make it too overwhelming.
> 
> There are a few references that I wanted to point out and give credit where credit is due.
> 
> A stripper called Blaze is based on the song by the same name, sung by Christian Kane. If you’d like to listen, here’s the link to youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLw1IOLmSb8.  
> Also Tom’s ‘make love not war’ statement is actually from one of his interviews at the Moscow premiere of the Avengers. You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1FQ2s0fEcc

**Regarding Abigail**

**Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 16

_LA, Thank you for welcoming us with full hearts and open arms. The premiere for #avengers was amazing. Off to Moscow. #timeofmylife_

**Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 16

_Follow @thiddygirl and @lukejwindsor if you’re interested in my goings-on. Things are going. Things are on. #avengers #leavinonajetplane_

**Jordan’s Bitch**  @jrdnbitch – April 17

_@twhiddleston @thiddygirl ur fave coffee is waiting in #moscow. What can I bring you? Flavor?_

**Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 17

_RT @jrdnbitch @thiddygirl loves @starbucks #caramelmacchiato + for me, I’ll stick with a cup of tea #britishperson #starbuckssponsor?_

* * *

“I’m not ashamed of her, never was, never will be,” I said with more bite than I intended. The defensive nature of the conversation stemmed from the guilt I carried for how I treated Abby as a lover in the beginning. I’d forever feel that I cheated her, that she deserved so much better than what I made available to her of myself. “Even when we first got together, Luke, those first few weeks.”

The man shook his head. “Tom, it’s not a question of shame. That’s not the issue here, mate. I know that you’re not, never doubted you or her,” he indicated the sleeping woman with her head in my lap with a nod of his head, “on that. That’s not what we’re talking about.” He shifted in his posh leather seat, scanning the other passengers of the luxury jet to insure our conversation wasn’t followed by another person.

Chris Evans and Jeremy Renner were sharing a drink and a laugh about a stripper they’d met called Blaze in Hollywood. They’d both been hit on and propositioned independently by the red-headed beauty between interviews in the lobby of the hotel before she was removed by security. Iron Man himself, Robert Downey Jr drank champagne and talked in soft tones with his wife. Scarlett had disappeared into one of the private bedrooms to nap. All aboard the Marvel express from Los Angeles to Moscow engaged in their own lives, and paid little attention to anyone else for the time being. Every once and again, Chris Hemsworth would lead some kind of community commentary that got everyone involved until we all returned to our own micro groups.

My publicist put down his iPad to give his full attention to our debate, the healthy conversation that somehow devolved into something else. “It’s not your perception of her at stake here, but what others perceive of her.”

“Why should I care about what others think? I don’t live by their rules.” I lowered my voice again when Abby settled into another position against me in her sleep, her head rubbing along my thigh before resting again. I soothed my hand down her back to encourage her to relax into a restful sleep. “I shouldn’t have to keep this quiet. She’s important to me.”

“And she should be… important to you, I mean- but your life is about to be scrutinized and viewed by thousands of people. Your life and choices will be judged by others because they like ‘ _the idea_ ’ of you,” he stressed, his meaning clear. “It won’t be about you or her, but the ideal version of you, and the ideal version of you is single.”

A simple spoken wish, an after-thought and means of conversation became this debate. All I’d said to Luke that triggered this about five minutes ago:  _“I wish I could’ve walked the red carpet with Abby on my arm.”_  A wistful, not-quite-what-if scenario turned into a major exchange.

“Luke, I understand all that, but I shouldn’t have to hide Abigail when we’re serious,” I argued. “She’s been hiding with me since we got together and she doesn’t deserve that. She hid herself away from the world because of all she’d lost. And now I’m hiding her in plain sight and I have to pretend that she doesn’t mean anything more than—“

“Me?” Luke asked with a cheeky grin, effectively lightening the mood.

Chuckling, I joked, “Hey, mate, you don’t look nearly as good in a bra as Abby does and you don’t tell me you love me anymore.”

We embraced the humor of the moment to introduce some rationality back into our discussion. The importance hadn’t diminished the charmed idea of walking the red carpet with Abby by my side. Keeping my relationship status a secret from the world didn’t seem as vital anymore. My loyalty felt better served with the woman in my life now, especially after her ordeal. Hiding Abby at the premiere two nights ago in front of so many felt shameful, and if I had my way I’d shout at anyone listening that I fell in love with the sweetest girl.

“Luke, I do understand the rationale behind keeping her presence in my life close to the vest – I’d like to remain private as much as humanly possible - but what about honesty with my audience? If this movie does well and I pick up a bigger audience, why not have her known as my girlfriend already before I gain the new ones?” My fingers played with Abby’s hair absently, stuck on this idea of having her on my arm. “It doesn’t have to be announced… it doesn’t have to be an event. She can attend as my date.”

The idea wormed its way into my head, little by little, with each nudge I got from her the other night. She’d followed my directions to the letter, reluctantly giving Luke the task she’d created for the fans. Abigail walked the red carpet as a no-name, behind me, and stood back with her hands folded in front of her while I was interviewed and approached by every publication, website, blogger, television personality, and reporter that could get my attention. The weirdest part of the entire night, for me, had been not to reach for her or touch her in any way.

Limited. Shackled from doing exactly what my impulse desired to do. It felt wrong. Now that I’d been saddled with the idea, I couldn’t get away from it.

“There’s an appeal, for you, as a single man, a bachelor, a heartthrob, if you will – if I can boldly use as term from the ‘60s,” he said mockingly with a tilt of his head and a shrug of his shoulder. “We don’t have ‘matinee idols’ anymore, but we still have movie stars and movie stars are every girl’s fantasy.”

The game of playing at Hollywood actor. Look the part. Know the part. Play the part.

I knew the board, the rules, the pitfalls, and the shortcuts, but I didn’t want to be a player. There were actors with wives, girlfriends, lovers, boyfriends, husbands, significant others, and they were still successful in their career. Looking around the cabin of the plane, I saw several happily married couples and these actors were at the top of their careers too.

Chris Hemsworth made it work.

Robert Downey Jr made it work.

Mark Ruffalo made it work.

“I don’t think I need to have that to be successful. My personal life has no influence on my career,” I said defiantly.

Luke read unconvinced as he shrugged again. “It’s your call, mate. She’ll be exposed to the cruelest side of human nature… because it’s not you that’ll get the brunt of it… it’s her,” he gestured to the sleeping woman. “Can she handle the invasion into your personal life that will undoubtedly come? The scrutiny? I can only do so much to protect her, and she’s such a sensitive soul.” His voice lilted higher with the sentimentality he felt for his sister from another mother. Changing tactics, Luke continued, “Tom, it’s so soon in your relationship and your career as leading man, do you not want to play it on the safe side at least for a bit? To see what roles you’re offered next? To see how things go with Abby?”

Luke knew how to work the game better than I did, as it was his job to sift through the bullshit, put me in the best light, and sell me to the next highest bidder. Watching my girl sleep for a few minutes, I weighed up both sides of the issue, my mind swaying between the choices.

Voicing my inner monologue, I lazily stroked my hand along Abby’s back, her breathing deep and even. She’d been prepared for this flight, by taking a sleeping pill, used the earplugs, wore the eye mask, and slept through the majority of it to combat the headache. “I wanted to reach for her, to take her hand or lead her. I’m so used to being the tactile boyfriend, because that’s what she needs. It goes against every instinct in me to ignore that reach for her.”

Sympathetically, Luke agreed, “It was difficult for her too. She seems more at ease when she’s with you. She knows how she fits with you. Surrounded by all that energy and excitement of the premiere, Abby looked lost at sea. She enjoyed herself, but she would’ve enjoyed it more holding your hand. You’re her beacon, and you were the other night. You gave her a task of trailing you, and she followed it.”

Marvel Dan made another pass through the cabin to check on the needs and wants of everyone on-board, as he had done every hour on the hour since we hit cruising altitude. “T Hiddy girl’s been sleeping the whole way,” he commented after offering drinks and snacks.

Adjusting the blanket over her, I nodded, “Best way for her to cope with the long flights.”

Dan replied, “If she needs anything when she wakes, send her my way.” He pointed towards the front of the jet where he’d setup his laptop and World of Warcraft battleground.

I didn’t like Dan’s interest in my girl, but I let it slide again to keep the peace. His familiarity with her grated on me, but I was sensitive to any man’s attention on her.

“Why now, Tom?” Luke asked when Dan moved on to check on Mark and his wife. The question broke through my suspicion surrounding the boy and his motives with Abby. “You’ve always kept your private life on the down low. So why now?”

At the heart of the matter, my thinking and reasoning changed. I loved keeping Abby to myself, our relationship exclusively us and we could treasure each other without outside influence spoiling it. Including her now felt like a personal growth for me, a step that I should take, not because she asked me to, but because I wanted to.

“Before Abigail,” I began to explain. “I’d always been the monogamous one, the man that liked the stability of the same woman. Having that one person I could turn to, vent on, share those doubts that haunt us all. I trusted her among all others including my family.

“I fancied a world that encompassed me and my significant other. But the three people I trusted with that as confidant, lover, mate… whatever you’d feel comfortable calling it – they didn’t view it from the same perspective. It was a lie or a show or frankly too much responsibility.

“So I broke away from the traditional relationships when my career began to take shape. I shelved the idea and began to have ‘ _fun_.’ I dated casually, one or two dates before I didn’t ring them for a third date and well before I let myself care for them. Sex was the same, one or two nights, maybe a third before I moved on.”

I looked down at my napping girlfriend, pondering how she’d ever come to mean so much to me. “When Abby came along, I tried the new approach, selling it to my monogamous side by choosing one lover, convinced myself that I could ring up any woman at any time and it wasn’t about Abby, but I never did. When we started, she was the only woman for me, and she easily ticked all my boxes because she made it so fluid. She made herself available to me, and seemed grateful for whatever time I spent on her, appreciative of the affection I gave her. Maybe because she assumed it was for a limited time.

“But she’s the same as she’s always been, since that first day she tripped into my arms, she’s been invested in me, in her, in how we fit, and she’s always present. And for that, I want to be present for her too. I don’t want to travel the one way street that I forced her down.”

Luke nodded, taking it all in. He’d been there when the third woman broke my heart, and he knew the devastation that came from crushing disappointment, the crux of my attitude towards Abby in the beginning. One woman couldn’t handle my career, and two women couldn’t handle being faithful to me, then Abby came along. She was willing to do whatever she could to be with me.

Despite the private Marvel luxury jet, the nearly thirteen hour flight between Los Angeles and Moscow, and plenty of room of our own to live on-board, I barely slept. I felt wired from the excitement and the adrenaline pumping through me that I could almost detonate from the rush.

After the LA premiere, the cast had a few more events and appearances. The reception from the audience infected each one of us. Social media burned with gossip, hashtags, rumors, speculations after reading the reviews coming out of the El Capitan. The talk mostly surrounded the plot and analyzing every frame of the trailer for story points, character reactions and how it fit into the overall super hero universes.

The seventeenth of April marked the first time I ever visited Moscow and I wanted to enjoy it, the Kremlin, Red Square, Saint Basil’s Cathedral. Sadly our schedule was such that we had no time for sightseeing. We landed just before eleven in the morning local time and immediately reported for photo call.

The views from the top of a building, that I couldn’t remember the name, pronunciation or spelling, were nothing of spellbinding. The scope of the city laid out for miles in each direction made for an incredible backdrop for the cast pictures.

The schedule was tight, with nearly my every move planned down to the minute, hours in advance. I loved every second of it, even if I didn’t have the time to fit in my daily run to work off some of the energy. Because I buzzed, I rarely slept, but it was normal for me on a junket tour. I felt the lack of sleep and rejuvenation in my muscles and my pores, the lethargy easing itself inside me. But I couldn’t come down enough to give myself over to sleep, it was too much fun.

* * *

 **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 18

_I have the best fans in the world. Amazing! #thanksforthetea_

**T Hiddy Girl** @thiddygirl – April 18

_#moscow #avengersfans you’re incredibly kind. Tom had 12 cups of tea and I had 5 @starbucks #caramelmacchiatos on the red carpet_

**T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 18

_#vibratingbacktolondon #avengers #caffeinehigh #wontsleepuntilmay_

* * *

“Make love not war, Hiddleston?” Abby asked me dubiously with a sideways glance, referring to my interview on the red carpet the night before.

“You heard that part, did you?” I gathered my girlfriend into my arms behind a wall in Moscow’s international airport. The Marvel jet sat on the tarmac, ground crew fueling and loading supplies for the next twelve hour flight. The cast were all biding their time before we could take our seats.

“I approved those questions, my beautiful man,” her fingers stroked along my neck, pressing her body against mine. “The crowd screaming can drown out most conversations, but my ears perked up when my boyfriend mentioned making love.”

“I have a few things on my mind, my little minx.”

“A few things? Or one particular activity?”

The schedule as Marvel laid out for us left little for private time with Abby. The suites booked for us usually accommodated our own bedroom separate from Luke, although in the same suite. Nights were too short with late premieres and early morning flights. It didn’t leave a lot of time for dating and quality time alone with my girl.

I leaned down to capture her lips with mine when Luke appeared around the corner of the wall, stopping the kiss. “None of that! Stop that!”

Abby dropped her arms from around my neck and stepped back, blushing and looking guilty. My arm didn’t leave her waist, locking her to my side.

Luke handed us a bottle of water and a muffin each for breakfast, grabbing food when we could. “There are already rumors circulating in the press.”

“What rumors?” Abby responded first.

“That he’s dating.”

Abby took a step away and whispered a tiny apology. She knew Luke’s angle for promoting me as single man. She’d been coached by him back in London on how to keep things professional while in public.

“Luke, these rumors always exist. We should ignore it,” I said without much conviction. I was fine with anyone knowing that I was involved with someone, especially Abby. I didn’t care for being overly cautious anymore, I wanted to live my life.

“Until we’re ready to address those, let’s keep this to a minimum,” he instructed, waving his forefinger between Abby and me.

* * *

 **Tom Hiddleston** @twhiddleston – April 19

_My favorite city. My home. London. My beauty. #Avengers #londonpremiere Uncontrollably excited!_

**T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 19

RT @twhiddleston  _My favorite city. My home. London. My beauty. #Avengers #londonpremiere Uncontrollably excited!_ #stolemyline #upstagedme

* * *

Luke, Abby and I traveled well together, worked as a team to get from one place to the next without too much aggravation or delay. We were barely in Moscow 24 hours before the Marvel jet flew us off to London for the next set of interviews and the next premiere. Abby rung up the hospital and rescheduled her original cast removal appointment dated the 18th for the 24th. The timing had been too thin to fit it in before the red carpet at Westfield, with Rome and Berlin on the heels of it.

She felt self-conscious about having the thing on for so long, and having to make public appearances, but she counted the days until its removal. Our European premieres sped by in a blur of commotion, with London on the 19th, Rome on the 21st and Berlin on the 23rd. Abby and I had two nights in the familiar surroundings of my flat, before living out of a suitcase again.

* * *

 **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl - April 21

_Who’s seen the movie? Tell us what you think about @ twhiddleston in the #avengers. We want to hear from you. #teamloki #teamhiddleston_

**T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl - April 21

_Ciao, Roma! Another city, another premiere. Want to hear from you when you see the #avengers. Rooting for Loki? #teamloki #teamhiddleston_

* * *

Dan, the Marvel errand boy, handed a hotel key each to Luke and me when we arrived mid-morning at the Grand Hotel Ritz lobby in Rome. Dan winced before breaking the bad news, “There was a slight mixup with your room.” The young man looked like a misbehaving child caught with his hand in the biscuits, by being the messenger for bad news.

After the two and a half hour flight from London and a confusion of transport from the airport to the hotel, Luke was in no mood for more trouble. He was less than thrilled with the tiresome traveling after so little down time back in London. Mincing as few words as possible, he griped, “What mixup?”

Abby took my hand and stepped in closer to listen to the news after being swept up in the ambiance of the lobby, the immaculate white tray ceiling accentuated with gold trim, black marble columns topped with gold accents, rich heavy red drapes, and brown sitting chairs. The brown and white marble floor shined and felt slippery underfoot. The staircase leading to the second floor curved out of site, and resembled a Civil War era plantation home.

Dan’s eyes swiveled from Luke to me to Abby and back again anticipating an argument or bodily harm. “We weren’t a— actually the hotel overbooked the suites. They’ve placed you- well all of us- in double rooms. Only two beds in one room, no extra sleeper.”

Hurriedly Luke huffed a sign of disappointment and readjusted his bag strap on his shoulder. With a roll of his eyes in my general direction, he huffed, “Fine.” The message rang loud and clear, Abby and I would keep our hands to ourselves for his sake. He began to move away in the direction of the ballrooms. “I’m going to approve your questions from the press,” he told me, pointing at a sign that announced the Marvel interviews. “Quiet the dating rumors.”

Still upset, Luke stood by my status as single available man, while the press and fans rumbled on about the identity of T Hiddy Girl and speculated how close we were and who she was.

Abby apologized to a relieved if not shell-shocked Dan for Luke’s abrupt and dismissive reply. “He’s a little ornery after two hours without his iPod. He forgot to charge it before the flight, made him a little edgy.”

Dan chuckled, “Your group’s reaction, the calmest. Hulk smashed is one thing—“

“Thanks, Dan,” I interrupted with a smile, asserting my actor persona, masking my annoyance under grace. The window of opportunity for Abby and I to find some alone time together was quickly closing. Luke would sail through the prospective interviews as quickly as possible.

This boy, Dan, talked to Abby as though she were the sun to be worshipped, simply because she empathized. I still didn’t like the way he looked at her. At each check-in, he made some kind of Marvel reference, and I couldn’t listen to another. “Baby, we should get settled, yeah?” I asked my girl, confirming for Dan again that she was with me. Every day he looked for her to share a conversation.

She nodded, waving to Dan as we walked towards the lifts away from the Scarlet O’Hara staircase. I snuck my arm around her waist while Dan’s eyes followed us. Laying claim on her, I tucked my hand into the back pocket of her jeans and pressed her against me.

“Don’t be jealous, Tommy. He’s only doing his job,” she reminded. “I’m with you.”

“You are, but he’s overly familiar with you.”

She shot me a disapproving look. “He’s friendly. That’s all. He’s got a thing for Colby and Scarlett, any woman.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. All I want to do is claim you, heart and body,” I growled into the nape of her neck as we approached the lift doors.

“Do you think you can wait until we’re in the privacy of our room?”

Speaking low to avoid the business types and tourists leaving the lift, I intimated, “I’m anxious to get back to that conversation we were having on the in the coach from the airport…”

Abby giggled and wiggled away from me, gluing her back to the rear wall of the lift when the doors opened to accept us. From the gleam in her eye and the bow of her back to accentuate her breasts, she knew exactly which conversation. “Mr. Hiddleston, you are at the Ritz. Please show some decency.”

I slapped the button for our floor before flattening my body against hers, my girl sandwiched between me and the wall. I buried my face in her neck, sniffing her skin for the scent of arousal, that delicious peachy fragrant smell that belonged solely to Abby. Moaning into the nape of her neck, I whispered, “I can show you a decent time once I get you alone.”

“Do you think there’s a camera in here?” she asked leaning into my questing kisses along her throat. Her loyalty torn between her boyfriend and her employer. 

I affirmed it with a low hum, reluctant to waste any time with the unimportant. My lips were too eager on foreplay than silly conversation or restraint.

She argued, weakly, “Luke won’t be long…”

My hand moved of its own accord, grasping her breast, the floors ticking by behind my head. In time with the flicking of the numbers, my thumb circled her hardening nipple beneath the layers of clothing, my long sleeved blue one, a tank, and her bra.

Abby gasped, pressing into my hand. Her eyes followed the numbers above me, willing them to go quicker, so we could finally be alone. “Tom!” she sighed as my hand squeezed her flesh.

“Do you think…” I kissed the hollow point at the base of her throat as her head lolled back with pleasure. “… I could fire…” I drew a small circle on her breastbone with my tongue, earning a whimper and her good hand grabbing my waist for purchase. “… Luke for thirty minutes?” My teeth scraped over the swell of her breast as the lift mercifully arrived at our destination.

“Fire him for an hour?”

Lifting my head I looked deeply into her eyes, my mouth curling upwards into a smile. “Oh, you want to do that?”

“On one condition, Thomas.” She led me away from the lift when we arrived on our floor, following the carpeting to our room for the next night. Before we entered our room, as she leaned against the door, she looked at me seriously. “Thomas, this has to be about you and me, and not your idea of Dan.”

“This is about us,” I stated. “We haven’t had sex—“

She shook her head to stop me. “Thomas, promise me that this isn’t about your jealousy. Fuck me because you want to fuck me, not because he wants to. Fuck me because you can have me, not because he can’t. There’s a subtle difference, but means everything to me. Remember to forget, baby.” She punctuated each sentence she spoke with a kiss on my lips, my jaw, my neck, my chin, and back to my lips.

The bitter darkness and doubt that I’d lived with for years swam and clouded my vision. The possessive male couldn’t be tamed when he felt his woman threatened with being yanked from his arms. My rational mind fought to dominate the primal instincts, the baser masculinity that needed to prove this woman mine.

With more force than I meant to use on her, I pressed Abby against the wall, my body her prison. Her eyes sparkled up at me with trust and understanding, both more than I deserved. My fingers wrapped around her neck to lift her face to me, and she allowed me to do it.

“I trust you, Tom. I trust you, and I need you to trust me too,” she urgently breathed, her arms circling my waist. “Trust me.”

She spoke and I finally allowed the blinding emotion go enough to listen, to hear what she told me. Pressing my forehead to hers, I begged, “Tell me that you love me.”

Abby’s good arm curled up under my arm, and she splayed it between my shoulder blades. “I love you, my beautiful man. I’m here. I’m with you. You’re my choice.”

Petting her hair in my way, I let her words balm the rage of possession brought on my too little sleep, incredible stress, and a randy young man with a hard on for every woman within six feet of him. The anger abated and I pressed into her even more. After the surge of territorial masculinity, my body needed to claim her, make her mine. I growled, “My Abigail,” into a hungry brutal kiss.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these tweets are actual tweets. A shoutout to my friend Shiny for helping me collect them. I couldn’t have done it without you.
> 
> I also altered when Tom actually went to Miami. His timeline actually put him in Miami BEFORE the Tribeca Film Festival. But I needed those to get Abby’s cast off. So bear with me. There’s a reason for all of this. 

> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 21
> 
> _#Avengers dissembling in London and relocating for Italian assembly in ROME tonight! #EquipeLoki #Assembla @Avengers_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 21
> 
> _RT Would you like to do my job @twhiddleston? You all heard the man, see you in Rome! #LokiBehavingBadly #stolenannouncement #TeamHiddleston_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 21
> 
> _RT Apologies @thiddygirl. Uncontrollably excited! #Avengers #TeamHiddleston #LeaveTheAnnouncementsToTheProfessionals #ShesGotThis_

* * *

Precious seconds ticked by, my lips fused with Abby’s, my teeth clashing with hers, my tongue touching and tangling with hers. She moaned, a deep seated sound that she craved more. Her good hand descended from between my shoulder blades down my back into the back pocket of my trousers. She nipped at my bottom lip when I began to pull away to unfasten her jeans. “Thomas,” she said seriously, “hear me. He was only being friendly.”

Her eyes bore into mine with an intensity that told me in no uncertain terms that she would walk away if I behaved badly. “Thomas, take me inside and fuck me because  _you_  want to.” She pointed behind her, to our room beyond the door where we should continue our liaison, without the nagging fear that we’d get caught or give those paparazzi something to print about. “Because I’m your Abigail,” she assured.

There was no feeling in the world similar to the fire that she lit under me in those few words. I’d take her right in the hallway of the Ritz, regardless of others or my reputation or what/whoever else might be lurking. She fried every last reservation from my head with the command for attention.

My coordination suffered when I felt turned on, and this time wasn’t any different when I fumbled for the key. My body pumped with endorphins and adrenaline, life and blood and arousal. She tamed the savage territorial creature by peppering my neck with kisses and repeating, “I’m yours” between fevered love bites.

A rumble so deep rolled up from within me, “Abigail.”

She slithered around me, plastering her body against mine from behind while I fought to get the door open. Her lips played over my spine, even through the thin cotton of my t-shirt. Her good hand made a slow agonizing slide down my chest to my belt. “Yours, baby. Your Abigail.” She lifted up on her tippy toes to swipe her tongue over my ear, holding me with all her might and waiting for the mood to transform from jealousy to passion. Her good hand stroked along my midsection, ironing out the territorial beast and leaving behind the proud man head over heels in love with his woman.

When she spoke again, her tone sounded low and secretive, tender, but reminded me how she was mine and how well she remembered being mine. My petite girlfriend whispered a naughty monologue of one of our sexual escapades that she remembered during our flight over France and Switzerland. “One night, my job and my boss- stressed me. You remedied that straight away. Bent me over kitchen table, like I was the buffet. You had your fill of me. Kicked my legs apart, so I was spread open. You knelt behind me, your hand on my back to trap me. Your tongue, Tom – my God – your tongue.” She shuddered and purred at the memory, kicking my libido up another notch.

I cursed in frustration and burning desire as I felt my cock grow harder in my trousers, the fucking door standing in the way of me and blinding ecstasy deep in Abby’s body.

And still she tortured me, “I was trapped on that table, but I never wanted to be free. You made me come, and then again, and then again. Kept coming… one long extended orgasm, and my limbs were under your command.  _I_  was under your command and I loved every second of it. Then you took me from behind.  _So forceful, so powerful_ , you  _rammed_ into me. You fucked me until I saw stars. Rough, passionate – God, Tom, I’m wet thinking about how hard you made me come.”

All the blood in my body surged forward to my cock, desperate to get inside her, twitching hard to feel her around me. I forgot the jealousy spike that put Abby in my arms, and I simply concentrated on having her there. I recalled that rough sex night too, only too well, and my body hummed with the remembrance of getting her off. We’d only been lovers then, and her vile producer had begun tormenting Abby with sexual advances. When she told me about it, the click from lover to protector seemed instantaneous, and I loathed the man for coming onto her. The night, that night, had been about relaxing her, ward off any tension she felt, but it’d also been about…

“You called me yours. Those last rough strokes… I don’t think you realized that you said it. ‘Mine,’ you said, and I’ve been since then.” She reached down and cupped my erection in her hand, giving it a hardy squeeze that nearly had me coming apart from the sexual tension in my body.

Her words wove their way through my brain, through my bloodstream and stroked every nerve ending to taut sexual need. I tried to get the key in the lock, but my concentration was focused on the pulse of her chest against my back, the almost audible thump-thump-thump of her heartbeat. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. The sing in my veins reached a higher pitch as I argued with the fucking door.

“Abby,” I murmured, swallowing hard and catching my breath with some difficulty. “I’m relieved you didn’t tell me this earlier.” I shoved the key roughly into the slot on the door as my body wanted to ravage her from the top of her head to her black flat clad feet. Her breathing accelerated at the excitement we’d built in each other. She couldn’t wait for me to put my hands on her; my erection throbbed to answer the plea in her eyes when I yanked her through the door. “I would’ve fucked you raw on the floor in front of the entire world.”

I kicked the door closed behind us as I hauled Abby into the room. Hospitality delivered our bags for our convenience, a Godsend since I planned to tear her clothes from her if it saved me time.

“Do it now, lover. Do it to me now,” my girl taunted with a sultry grin.

Crushing the blushing girl against the wall beside the door, secluded in the privacy of the room, my hands tugged at her trousers to get them off her hips. The material gave some resistance before giving way to expose her horizontally striped knickers, accentuating the width of her hips. “Arms over your head, Abigail,” I prompted gruffly before kissing her demandingly. I felt her comply at once, her breasts shifted higher along my chest. My tongue probed her mouth, seeking her taste, her sweetness, her essence, what made me love her so much.

Abby stood, trapped against the wall, but she did everything she could to egg me on with desperate moaning, eager thrusting of her hips, creating friction with every forward swipe of her middle against me. Insinuating my knee between her legs, I tucked it up against her center, the pressure so exquisite she gasped out of our kiss, “Tom!”

“Let everyone in Rome hear you, baby,” I breathed into her ear. “Let them hear who pleases you.”

She rubbed against my knee, her arousal seeping through her knickers, leaving a damp stain on my trousers. Her hips gyrated and pressed down into my thigh, her center fixing on a pleasing cant. Sounds emanated from the back of her throat as her orgasm approached. The color in her cheeks made her even more beautiful than the woman finding pleasure on my leg.

Whispering sinfully into her ear, I helped her along, “Find your ecstasy, baby. Find it. Don’t stop. Let the throbbing in your clit explode until all you feel is blissful release through you. That’s it… faster…” She whimpered my name when I lifted my knee a bit higher, pushing her over the edge. Shuddering, she rode her climax through to its end on my knee.

As Abby came down from her orgasm and recovered her breath to normal rate, I heard Luke in the hallway, talking into his mobile. No time for second thoughts, I hauled my girl into the bathroom and closed the door behind us, concealing us inside, neglecting the clothes we’d shed so far. As one door closed, the other one opened.

Turning the tap on full to cover any sounds we made, I cornered Abby for another deep kiss. I took her good hand and pressed her palm to my engorged cock. Out of my mind with sexual need, I’d passed the point of no return. I needed to come, there was no coming down any other way.

Abby massaged the bulge in my trousers, matching the entwined rub of my tongue exploring her mouth.

When I released her only to breathe, her eyes were heavy with lust, her cheeks bright with heat, her lips reddened by my kiss. “I need to feel you around me.”

“I’m yours. Claim me.”

She squeaked with surprise when I lifted her off her feet. When I made a move towards the shower, she squealed, “Tom! My cast!” She didn’t have the time to slip the cover on to protect her plaster cast from getting wet.

I turned in the other direction and sat her upon the long vanity in front of a mirror. I saw her giggling in the mirror’s reflection first, the small shaking movements of her bare back, her arms awkwardly hooked around my neck. Then I felt her laughter against my chest, her petite frame vibrated without settling. Her breath stuttered against my collarbone with her silent giggles. Finally the jubilant, happy sound rang out, competing with the running water of the shower.

Abby’s giggling fits were as contagious as yawning in public. Her sense of folly and her enjoyment in the act itself infected others, and I fell victim without knowing the reason, she was reason enough. I leaned back to see her cover her mouth with her good hand as the laughter took over.

With more exhale and breathy gruffness, I asked, “What’s got you laughing?”

Her giggles skipped and danced from her, the comedy of the moment holding her tightly in its grasp. Hiccoughing through the guffaws, she wheezed, “We’re… in… a… bathroom…” She surrendered completely to the hysterical giggles pushing forward. Her cast-covered left hand pointed, “A toilet!”

The ridiculousness of our situation, she saw it for what it was and it was refreshing. I laughed with her at our silly predicament. We, as an adult couple very much in love, were hiding out in a bathroom for a quickie, while another adult, my publicist and her stand-in brother, sat just outside the door.

The combination of explosive sexual tension and laughter could only be described as a natural high. Even as the laughter fell from me, I wanted to share that emotion with Abby while her body accepted me in her.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, baby,” my chuckle caressed along her ear. My fingers twirled over her pebbled nipples, her back bowing into the touch.

My statement only caused more giggling in her, but she was receptive to my seduction. “I know, I remember… naughty man…” That was the moment she went for my belt to free the monster erection I sported.

“Say that again, little minx.”

She wiggled her bum along the cold hard surface to help me remove her knickers. “I remember,” she tittered again. Hastily she tacked on another “Naughty man” for emphasis.

My gaze dipped down to view her puffy, glistening sex, licking my lips, dying to bury my face between her legs, but we didn’t quite have the time. Laughing at her appropriate assessment of me, I promised, “I’ll show you naughty.” My eyes raked down her naked body as I helped her jump down from the countertop. Roughly, I spun her around to face the mirror, my flesh flush with her from behind. Locking her into place, I hooked my arm round her middles, my cock tucked against the crease of her bum.

Glowing from her minutes-old orgasm and laughing fit, Abby grinned and met my gaze in the mirror. “I remember… the first time.”

I moved her hair to the side, fisting her tresses in my free hand, to hold her immobile with her head tilted. I massaged my lips along the exposed skin of her neck, worshipping her, reveling in her.

“You didn’t undress me then,” she mused, her vision zeroed in on the visual of me loving her in the mirror.

“Couldn’t wait.”

Laughter returned to her voice, “And now we’re in Rome. In a bathroom.” A cross between comedy, incredulity and disbelief, along with her sassy lilt colored her words.

Releasing her hair, I crossed my arm across her body to grasp her breast while my other sunk from her waist to her mound. With rapt attention, we watched the action play out in our reflection. “When in Rome,” I grumbled against her shoulder, loving how her flesh responded to me.

“Thomas, I don’t think Romans are fucking in a bathroom. Not with their coworker in the next room,” she said with another light tittering.

I tweaked her nipple with one hand as the other traced her lips at the apex of her thighs. I smirked into her skin when she gasped with the pleasure of the visual and the sensation itself. Rubbing my cock along her backside, I scraped my teeth along her flesh, reigning in my animalistic urge to take her at once. “Perhaps they should… I find it arousing… the thrill of seduction… earth shattering climaxes…”

I found her moist clit at the top of her sex and pressed. Her hips shimmied to find the most pleasure from that depression, effectively shifting her pliant curves against my aching erection. I closed my eyes and allowed the furor of delicious gratification build within me. “Intensely erotic.” The words dripped from my lips, mounting the arousal between us to a breaking point. My hands worked independently, but oddly in sync to push her towards climax again.

“Tom,” she whined in the back of her throat, her hips swaying and grinding against my hand. “Take me. Bend me over and fuck me.” A pause and then for significance, “Do it,” she said like the first time we had sex all those months ago.

“As you wish.” I bent her over and slipped into her core in one smooth exquisite movement. My foot worked between hers to spread her legs a little wider as I ran a hand along her spine to grasp her hips.

Abby held tight to the vanity with her good hand, memorized by the sight of us fucking in the mirror. Her lower lip disappeared under her teeth as she smothered her sounds of pleasure, her eyes trained on me. Her warm wetness squeezed around my length with every thrust and buck forward.

Skin slapped against skin. My cock pressed into her a greater cant with every move, feeling the coil twist ever tighter with each surge forward. The steamy mist from the hot water coiled and rolled around, fogging up the mirror and clouding our vision of one another. We both tried to minimize our sounds for the sake of Luke, but every once and again, a moan or a wordless exclamation escaped from our passionate embrace.

I covered her back with my chest as my hands cheated up her sides to cover her breasts from swaying with each stroke into her body. She turned her head to accept my kiss, squealing into it as I felt her body begin to spasm around me. The pull of her muscles set off a firestorm of excitement in my bloodstream and within seconds, I joined her over the edge of oblivion.

I slipped my fingers down to her clit, to massage another orgasm from her. I tasted her sweet release along her tongue when her body seized against mine, around me, encompassing all of me with her. In the end, we ended up a mass of heaving entwined limbs on the cold tiled floor, trying to quiet our giggles.

* * *

> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 22
> 
> _We had such an incredible time in Rome. Thank you all our wonderful fans and supporters. GRAZIE! #Vendicatori #Avengers @Avengers @Mruff221_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 22
> 
> _There was singing on the red carpet in Rome. Berlin, what’ve you got for us? #Avengers #TeamHiddleston_
> 
> **QueTeaPieCup**  @queteapiecup – April 22
> 
> _@thiddygirl Maybe #Tom Hiddleston can dance for us next? He says he likes to dance. #DancerLoon_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 22
> 
> _RT @queteapiecup #StayTuned #OperationDance #IsOn #doesLokidance? #idliketoseethat #Loondefinitely_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 22
> 
> _RT @thiddygirl @queteapiecup I can dance. And I can see you talking about me. #LokiPoleDances #ItsCanon_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 22
> 
> _RT @queteapiecup @twhiddleston There you have it. #isithotunderthere? #Leathermakesyousweat #backtowork_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl** @thiddygirl – April 23
> 
> _There may be dancing in Berlin tonight at the #Avengers premiere. #TeamHiddleston? Stake out your place on the red carpet. #Wewillfindyou_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 23
> 
> _MORE FUN THAN SHOULD BE ALLOWED. @Mruff221 @thiddygirl @lukejwindsor #Avengers European Tour. Moscow-London-Roma-Berlin-Cologne_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 24
> 
> _Slight pause on the #Avengers Tour. Back to London. Good to be home, but stay with us. More #TeamHiddleston to come #2DaysTillNYC_

* * *

The appointment with Dr. Sherpada to remove Abby’s cast at hospital went smoothly. He asked the regular routine questions to check her general health and the specific ones about her head and wrist. Without thinking about her responses, she answered in more dismissive responses, to get out as quickly as humanly possible.

Two days in London before jumping the pond back to America would never feel like enough time. Abby looked better than she had since the migraine from the first flight. London was her home, and she regained some of her vibrancy and excitability in familiar surroundings. Fatigue plagued her, but after six flights in four different time zones with little time away from Marvel would tire anyone.

“How are the altitudes treating you?” the doctor inquired, reviewing his notes on her case.

“Not well,” she murmured, hesitant to admit it to him or to me. Confessing that she suffered more than she let on didn’t come easy. She didn’t want to worry me, I knew that.

“The headache sticks around, doesn’t it?” he asked leadingly.

“It does, and it pulses in my head,” she spilled.

As if she kicked me in the solar plexus, I voiced my unease, “Abigail, why didn’t you tell me?” The news stung deeply, somehow I’d let her down, I hadn’t kept her best interest at heart.

“I- Tom, I—“

“Mr. Hiddleston,” the doctor stepped forward, “it’s perfectly normal for her to experience some pain and discomfort after a concussion. You’ve been at all different altitudes and atmospheres.”

I couldn’t keep from touching her. I combed my fingers through her hair before petting it in my way. Cupping the side of her head, my thumb drew tiny gentle circles at her temple. If I could absorb her pain, I would in a heartbeat.

Dr. Sherpada continued over my tender gesture, “It’s perfectly normal. There are natural, herbal treatments if you’d like to try, but your traveling is almost done, correct?”

Abby nodded, turning her gaze from me to him, but I answered for her. “We’re meant to be in New York City on the 26th with a quick few days in Miami before returning to London on the 3rd or 4th of May.”

“It’s completely up to you, Abby. Herbal remedies usually take time to settle in and counteract the headaches. I’m reluctant to prescribe anything stronger if the discomfort is caused by the change in atmosphere. These things sort themselves out on their own, in their own time.”

Abby sat up straighter, “I’ll handle it on my own.”

“Baby, no… I don’t want you in pain.”

Dr. Sherpada discreetly stepped away, pretending to make notes in Abby’s patient chart, giving us privacy.

“Tom, I’m okay,” she looked back to me, standing protectively over her. “I want to be with you. We’ve made it this far. The junket is almost over.”

“I don’t want to do it without you but not if you’re in pain.” I planted my hands on her shoulders and swiveled her towards me. “Stay in London where you’re comfortable. Stay in my flat if you want to be there. I can—“

She placed her fingertips over my lips to stop me from saying anymore. Her eyes glistened with tears, edged with exhaustion, but a smile so bright that it lit up the room, eradicating all the worry in her. “You’d find someone to drop in and check on me. I know.” She shook her head. “But, Tom, I want to be with you. This,” she flipped her hand up towards her head, “is just a silly side effect. The flights are… getting easier. I’ll be fine.”

“Abby,” I warned, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every bone in my body, every ounce of blood, every breath I took, I wanted to protect her, shield her from harm, from pain. Words to argue with her escaped me though. She was strong willed and would put her all into seeing this through, a challenge for her to overcome.

“Tom, hear me. I’m fine.”

Stroking her hair on both sides, I felt for myself that she was fine, in one piece, contemplating locking her away for the sole purpose of regaining her health. She looked knackered, worn out and shattered from the days of traveling.

* * *

> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 26th
> 
> _Song of this particular second: “Empire State of Mind”, by Jay-Z (feat. Alicia Keys). Because we’re in New York! @TribecaFilmFest @Avengers_
> 
> **Luke Windsor**  @lukejwindsor – April 26th
> 
> _@TribecaFilmFest #Avengers is closing the festival with a screening on the 28 th. Bring your friends. #TeamHiddleston_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 26th
> 
> _RT @TribecaFilmFest #Avengers is closing the festival with a screening on the 28 th. Bring your friends. #TeamHiddleston_

* * *

The Avengers opened in the United States on the fourth of May, but I’d been contracted by Marvel to do certain press events, interviews, appearances and promotions for the film prior to that. After Abby had her cast removed from her arm, we were back on a plane to America to fulfill my contractual obligations. Luke would primarily handle most of my PR until the Avengers screened at the closing of the Tribeca Film Festival on the 28th of April. He needed to return to London to assist another one of his clients, at which point Abby would step up for the last few appearances and interviews in New York and Miami.

My flight with Luke and Abby landed in Newark, courtesy of Virgin Atlantic first class, midday two days before the red carpet event. My interviews began at two in the afternoon, with little time for anything more until I got free for the evening.

Subdued and quiet, Abby followed the line of traffic beside our car, the endless buzz of cars, trucks and busses commuting from New Jersey into New York. Horns blared, brake lights flickered, and middle fingers flashed at an alarming rate, tempers hot and fueled by grey smog of exhaust.

“Alright, baby?” My fingers twirled lightly around strands of her hair.

When she looked back at me, the pain masked her face. The headache returned with a vengeance, and she looked positively miserable. The prolonged exposure to higher altitude brought the migraine, and Abby suffered the pain.

Without another word, I slid across the seat, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I pulled her in tightly against my chest, under my chin. That scary helplessness struck even as I held her against me, intellect and rationing couldn’t heal her. There was nothing to be done except to wait it out and hope it passed quickly. “I’m so sorry, Abby,” I whispered into the top of her head. She didn’t deserve the paid she endured to be with me. “I’m sorry, baby.” I laid my cheek upon her head and cuddled her.

When we arrived at the Four Seasons in midtown Manhattan, Dan greeted us with a salute, the likes of Captain America would give, in the lobby of the hotel. It took all the patience I had not to slug him. I could only endure so much, and this one pushed it. Grinding my teeth and grinning to bear it, I shook his hand, “Good to see you again, Dan.”

Abby snuggled closer, her arms around my waist and her head against me chest. Maybe she did it for me, after my poor reception of Dan in Rome, appealing to my possessive nature over her or for Dan to let him know for certain that she was spoken for. But she did it for her, clinging to me because she didn’t feel well.

Dan glanced down at Abby’s left arm tucked around my middle, “Ah, the cast is gone. Congrats, girl. You made it.”

Before she could speak, I stated, “Another rough flight, I’m afraid. May we get the key to the suite?”

Dan dug through his manilla envelope, humming the Avengers theme under his breath, for the correct room assignment, and gave a key to Luke and me, producing my itinerary at the same time.

“Great!” I said, mustering as much enthusiasm as I could. The schedule looked no different than the previous cities. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes after I get Abby settled.”

True to my word, I put my girl to bed with a couple paracetamol and tucked her in to sleep it off. I told her that I’d have Luke check in on her every hour, with specific instructions for both of them to tell me if it got worse. Regardless of her protestations, I’d take her to hospital if she continued to suffer.

Luke provided me with hourly updates, and she didn’t complain of her migraine getting any worse. But it didn’t improve much either by the time I crawled into bed with her for the night.

She’d listlessly roamed through the suite, judging by the open book she left in the sitting room and her iPad on the seat under the window in the bedroom. She’d raided the small refrigerator and drank half a bottle of overpriced orange juice before abandoning it in the bathroom. Another couple of paracetamol disappeared from the open bottle on the nightstand. None of it seemed easy for her with her head bothering her as much as it did.

* * *

> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 27
> 
> _How did they get so many buildings on one little island? New York WOW! #thisismyview #cantfindstarktower_

> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 27
> 
> _Can’t believe its our last red carpet even tomorrow. We’ll miss you but we’ve got some surprises for #TeamHiddleston #thruMay4 #veryexcited_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – April 27
> 
> _No really, I give. where is #starktower? #manhattanisland #dontsinkundertheweightofskyscrapers #atleastnotwhileimhere_

* * *

“Is this really the right time for this?”

Grasping her hands, I met her unsure gaze with my confident one. “That doesn’t figure into it, Abby. It’s never the right time, but I want to live.”

“Tom.” Luke stated from behind me.

Without looked back to him, I said, “Luke, I know your position on this, but ultimately it’s my decision. I choose Abigail.”

The smile started tiny, a little flex in her cheeks. The blush filled in first though, and then she beamed. Her hands in mine squeezed and she looked better than she had with this boost, this progression of us. The rumor mill had been churning for days now, and every day the talk got louder and more outrageous. It was difficult to ignore, and I didn’t want things to fall into the wrong hands. I had to make a stand, and my stand was with Abby.

“Will you be mine, Abby? Will you be my date tonight?” I could almost feel Luke’s disapproval hitting my back like daggers, but I didn’t care about the impression on the countless, nameless, faceless ‘them’ out there. I cared about the beautiful face before me and her health.

Her migraine hung over until the next morning. She woke sick to her stomach, but looked better after a shower and a glass of water. After agreeing to some food, she sat behind the room service cart picking at plain pancakes when I sprung the possibility on her. I decided that I needed to keep her at my side, since she improved with me around. I was her touch of home that she needed to feel better.

“Be my date, baby.”

She nibbled the inside of her cheek, contemplating the possibility of being one half of a public couple. She’d seen the attention on me grow from city to city, and it was bound to weigh on her decision. Surprisingly, there was no professional jealousy in her about my accomplishments, no insecurity in my love for her, no fear that I would run off with another fan. She took the entire Marvel junket parade in stride, even if she sometimes looked terribly overwhelmed by it.

“Tom,” she breathlessly murmured, “this… is a huge… thing. Please think on it… to be sure.”

“You’re mine and I’m yours.” My statement surprised her a bit and she gasped a tiny inhale in response. “No more hiding, no more denying what we have.”

Luke was quick to respond, “Tom, the rumors—“

“Don’t matter for the long haul. Next week, we’ll be old news.”

“And a statement?”

I finally turned towards him and addressed his inquiry, “Nothing. We say nothing. Our response to the nonsense is not to respond. I have no delusions that the paps will discover who she is, Abby’s not completely unknown. But they can speculate all they like, let them, I don’t care. I only care for Abby and living in the present. I don’t want to waste any time with her.”

Luke adjusted his glasses, short for something to argue his point. Reluctantly, he gave a single nod that he was on the same page. Overall, his plan for me and my career didn’t change with this development, but it’d make things a little difficult for him for a spell.

“What’d you say, baby?”

After a pause, she said nothing more than, “Okay.” Like she had in the hospital when I told her I would win her. I’d won her.

* * *

> **Hiddles’ Army**  @HiddlesArmy – April 28
> 
> _@twhiddleston @thiddygirl #TeamHiddleston assembling tomorrow morning for Tribeca. You should stop by early and say hello!_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – April 28
> 
> _@HiddlesArmy I’ll try and get there as early as I can! I have other press obligations to fulfil during the day. But I’ll try!_

* * *

“Abby, love, are you ready?” I called through the suite while Luke adjusted his tie in the reflection of the window glass overlooking Central Park. “The car will be here shortly.”

Luke and I waited a few moments for an answer, but one didn’t come. I knew she was nervous about this premiere, this walk along the red carpet. I might be in for prodding her along the way, I prepared for that.

As I got to my feet from the gray pullout sofa, I asked Luke quietly, “How’s she been today?”

Luke had decided to dress a bit more formal for the last of the Avengers premieres, New York Film Festival. He’d dressed in a dark blue Armani that he kept for these special occasions. He leveled a look on me, and then realized why I’d ask him. “She’s not wanting to worry you,” he said with a disapproving nod. “She’s better than yesterday, but I don’t think she’s feeling fantastic. The grueling pace of this junket was more than she could handle.”

Wincing at his candid assessment, I suspected the same. “She doesn’t like being away from home. London suits her, and she seemed better in the few days we had.” She’d put on a happy face for me when I got in from the ballroom interviews. I’d been sat in a chair beside Robert Downey Jr. for four hours, taming my schoolboy tendencies to scream, ‘I know Robert Downey Jr.! I worked with him! I threw him out a fucking window!’

How rewarding it felt to have my life coming together. My career, thanks to Marvel, took off like a speeding bullet, only fired and left the barrel fifteen years ago. I had a woman in my life as devoted and in love with me as I was with her. In the very near future, I’d be working alongside another legend in the film industry, Tilda Swinton. My family were all blessed with good health.

“Abby,” I called again, free of my revelry. “Come on, baby. We’ve got to go.”

When she didn’t answer again, I walked from the main room to the bedroom where I’d left her to finish getting ready. My love sat upon the bed, dressed in one of her best dresses, her makeup done, her hair swept up and turned into a twisted ponytail. She’d even managed to put her feet in a pair of three inch heels. But she didn’t rise or move, just sat upon the bed and stared out the window onto the skyscrapers that made up the Manhattan horizon.

“Baby?” I stepped into the room and went to her. “Alright, love? What’re you doing?”

She didn’t look at me straight away. With a bit of a sigh, she answered, “Breathing.”

Despite the time and the urgency to meet our car, I sat down beside her and took her cool hand in mine. “Well, that’s always preferable.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” she said to our hands, mine swallowing her little fingers, attempting to warm them. “I needed a minute. The room went a bit swirly.” A sad smile pulled at her painted lips.

Moving on automatic, I brushed her fringe to examine where her bump used to be. All evidence of the accident had healed and there was nothing there at all. I leaned in and kissed the spot, careful not to disturb her hair or makeup too much. “Dizzy rooms?”

“A bit,” she spoke nothing shy of a reluctant hesitant confession. She hated to worry me, and any ailment with her head concerned me.

“I don’t like that at all.”

“I’m okay. The room righted itself when you came in.”

There was my sweet girl. She loved me, and she’d done so much to be with me for this tour. I wasn’t blind to the sacrifices she’d made to be with me. Away from home, away from anything resembling routine or familiarity, flying, hectic schedules, meals when we could grab them, the long hours waiting for ten minutes alone with me. Abby didn’t complain. A stiff upper lip and a brave face when she didn’t feel perfectly well.

I looked forward to getting her back to London and I could she her properly how much I appreciated all she’d done. Abby hadn’t fare as well after the red carpet in Berlin, although we’d returned back to London the next day. She was tired, I could see it in the way she carried herself. Although she swore her headache had gone, she didn’t look nor feel at her best. She wasn’t used to the demanding schedule, off her general routine. She performed better on a reliable schedule, and this junket smacked that down.

A cuppa in front of Top Gear on the telly. Eating more popcorn than necessary. Drinking champagne out of tea mugs. Walking around my flat wearing nothing more than our duvets for slouching, hers pink and mine blue. Making love whenever we damn well wanted because we were alone.

“Tom, baby, are you sure about this?”

“I am.” I gave her a hopeful and expectant look.

“Okay.”

* * *

Her hand shook a little in mine with the thought of the night we had before us. It was a major event for her. Luke climbed out of the car on the passenger side when the driver shifted the car into park. Chuck, the man responsible for chauffeuring me around New York, also alighted from the care to open my door for me and Abby.

“Alright, baby?” I asked in the heat of the moment in the quiet scarce moments before my door opened.

She met my eyes and there was that quiet nonverbal moment that filled the void of the wrinkle in time. Something private, intimate, not altogether definable. Déjà vu in reverse, that familiarity, but a brand new experience. “Yes,” she whispered. “Love you.”

My door opened and the noise of the crowd flooded in, but I laid a small kiss on her lips before I greeted the screaming public. “Love you. Let’s do this.”

I caught her faint, “Okay,” as I swung my legs out of the car. I unfolded myself, straightened my suit jacket and waved to the enthusiastic cheering collection of fans. Their roar deafened and their camera flashes blinded. Filling my lungs and puffing my chest, I reached in and offered Abby my hand to help her from the car and into the din.

We walked the red carpet together, and it was glorious. I felt free for the first time in months. The rumor mill crashed to a halt, and began a spin in a new direction. The hunt began to identify the woman on Tom Hiddleston’s arm at the Tribeca Film Festival.

* * *

Abby and I separated from Luke in Newark International Airport a few days later. He was due back in London for a premiere with Emma Watson, and couldn’t join me for the remainder of the Avengers promotional interviews. We shook hands at the bottom of the escalators while Abby excused herself for the toilets for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“She’s done really well,” Luke complimented, nodding towards Abby. “She’ll see you through the last bit.”

I watched my girl disappear behind the restroom wall, trying to suppress the worry I felt for her. Nodding, I clasped my publicist on the shoulder, “Thanks to you. It’s been fantastic having her along. You made that happen for us, mate… can’t thank you enough.”

“Anything for her, she’s good people, really solid. There should be more people like her.”

“Yes, there should,” I mused, throwing another glance towards the ladies room.

“Take care of her, Tom. She looked pale this morning.”

“I know, she woke with a bad head.”

“Do you think this is related to the accident?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s very likely. The bump is gone and the amnesia has disappeared. I’ll get her to a doctor when we get back to London in a few days.”

Luke checked his phone for the time as an announcement sounded overhead. “I’ve got an hour, I should go. Let me know how you get on, yeah?”

“Sure, dad,” I threw up sarcastically.

“Funny that.” He then caught sight of Abby re-emerging from the loo. His eyes narrowed and I thought he might go to her.

“I’ve got her, Luke. Go get your flight. I’ll message you when I know something.”

* * *

> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – May 1
> 
> _MIAMI. #Avengers #partyinthecitywheretheheatison @thiddygirl @lukejwindsor @Avengers_

* * *

Anxious and unable to sit still, Abby didn’t handle the flight from New York to Miami with the grace that she normally held for air travel. Restless energy made her more jumpy than usual and I couldn’t distract her from whatever had her so wound up. She wasn’t feeling well, and I assumed this mood had something to do with it.

We were on the tail end of the Avengers junket tour, and no doubt, Abby couldn’t wait to get home again. She never complained and tried to hide her discomfort from me. With Luke returning back to England, she felt a more pressing need to get home too. She didn’t mention it or say anything, but this tour hadn’t been ideal for her. Home, routine, stability, reliability, and familiar surroundings suited her.

Her bad head from this morning got worse when the pressure headache set in during our flight and that only exacerbated her mood. I had hoped, because the flight was shorter, that she wouldn’t get worse this time. When she felt the onset arrive, she couldn’t eat or relax enough to sleep soundly. She wanted this whole tour to be over already.

Then another bout of nausea got her up and in the bathroom quickly. I followed and waited just outside the folding door as moral support. I’d be in there with her if we could both fit inside. While I waited, I asked one of the milling flight attendants for a bottle of water for Abby. When she finally reemerged and fell out of the tiny stall, I escorted her back to our seats to relax again. Being sick subdued her restlessness a bit.

She collapsed back in her seat and rested her aching head on my shoulder, seeking solace with me, as she usually did. Cuddling her to me, my hands soothed her by rubbing her hair, her back, her arms, and anywhere else I could comfort. I talked her into a nap, but it sadly didn’t last long nor help her feel any better.

It felt like cruel and unusual punishment to watch her suffer, and I couldn’t alleviate or heal any of her symptoms. This tour happened too soon during her recovery from the car accident and lasted too long to avoid home sickness. She faced it like a trooper though, and I was the cause she believed in, battled for.

Insanely proud of me, she took every new follower, retweet and favorite as my personal triumph. She discounted that it had anything to do with her take on promoting me, or how she handled the social media aspect. She believed in me, my talent and what I hoped to accomplish outside of Marvel. My personal wish and achievement was  _her_  biggest wish for me, and she wanted to see me succeed beyond this junket, for no other reason than it would make me happy.

As the cabin-fevered, homesick, exhausted woman faded in and out of wakefulness, her little fingers found my hand to grasp. I followed the line of her newly healed arm with my eyes until it met t-shirt. She wore one of mine, out of habit…

Or out of the need to feel close to me.

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks and overwhelmed me with the impact. This woman loved me. She loved me so entirely that she put her own preferences and wants and desires and pursuits aside, for me. She succeeded when I did. She loved me and with every mile we traveled, she proved it. She gave me her all because she wanted to, not out of a sense of obligation or even gratitude. She wanted to.

Her request for ten minutes a day of my time seemed a poor repayment for what she’d given up for me, and she hadn’t asked for the sake of reciprocity. She’d asked because she loved me.

Epiphany didn’t come easy. It was something earned after a long journey where the road twisted and curved, bumped and grinded. The windscreen before me hadn’t been cleaned properly, and I didn’t have a map or satnav, but I’d found my way.

Abigail loved me, and I could trust in that. I could trust her. In the back of my mind I knew that I’d feel territorial for her as my woman, but she’d shown me that she could be trusted and that she deserved to be.

As we touched down in an early summer shower soaked Miami, the sun began to make her entrance down stage. She beamed her golden hues and began drying the April showers, making the air sticky. The atmosphere stuck to our skin in a balmy heavy coat as we slogged through the gateway into the terminal. The stifling heat let up when stepped back into the lovely air conditioned airport.

Lethargic steps slowed Abby’s progress so much that she leaned on me to lead her. “Something’s… not right,” she whispered to me as we walked past a bookstore. “Dizzy… swirlies…” Whatever sickness she’d been battling for days seemed to catch up with her all at once. She couldn’t cover it or hide it from me anymore, and I knew it was bad when she admitted it outright.

“I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you. I’ll get you to the hotel straight away.”

“Your interviews,” she argued weakly.

“Shh, that doesn’t matter now.” I made a move to retrieve my mobile from my pocket and Abby’s steps faltered as we stepped onto the moving sidewalk. I stood towards the right side and held her to me, allowing other commuters to whisk by us on their hurried feet.

“Please don’t… call,” she gulped down, visibly swallowing.

“Abigail, you’re ill. You need a doctor. I’ll call Dan—“

“Not yet. At the hotel.” Her speech labored from her as she tried to catch her breath. The combination of the heat and the effort to keep from being sick again tested her stamina. But she looked scared, she didn’t want to make a scene or a fuss or draw more attention than a movie star nearly carrying his sick girlfriend through the airport.

“I’ll text him, love. I’m not wasting any time.” Not with her feeling as poor as she looked, color drained from her face. I sent off a hasty message to Dan to find us a doctor in the Miami area, preferably one willing to make a house call to the hotel with enough financial compensation for his troubles. I held her tightly all the way from the plane to baggage claim, tempted to pull my celebrity card to bypass luggage and hire someone to bring our bags to the hotel for us, so I could get Abby there quicker.

But it wasn’t to be…

The scariest experience of my life happened while we walked in baggage claim. Abby tottered. I felt her go. Her entire body relaxed and then her knees buckled. She would’ve folded and crumbled to the floor if I hadn’t caught her in my arms on the way down. She fell heavily against me and limply spilled over as I swooped her up.

She’d passed out.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this early today, because I'm just as anxious to share it. There's one more chapter, an obscenely long epilogue, and a one shot based on the events of these last few chapters. Thank you all kindly for the kudos, and messages while I've uploaded the story here.

In times of high stress and tension, I become hyper aware of inconsequential details in the world around me. Seconds drag on for years as I notice the scratch of a tag within my clothing or the cotton along my skin that would normally be ignored.

The flash and sound of cameras of an enthusiastic couple taking selfies in honor of their first holiday together.

The scream of a child on the far side of the terminal, angry with its mother about the burden of wearing shoes.

The clickety-clack of fingernails on a keyboard at the Budget Rental Car place.

The hollowness of the breath flowing in and out of my body. The bass note of the pedal-drum that my heart made in racing succession.

Abby lost consciousness and fell into my arms, and those details became as sharp in sound, color and the feel of her. I felt the weight of her in my arms, the leaden pliable weight without joy, without energy, devoid of anything that made her Abby. My beautiful love felt different. She didn’t responds to my touch, she didn’t know she was in my arms.

Panic and terror didn’t take over, though I felt them deep in my guy. I needed to find the solution and fix her, make her better, make her mine again. For me, there was no other option; I needed Abby healthy, alive and smiling.

“We need some help over here, dudes!” A man no more than 30 years old called to a pair of uniformed security guards along the wall while he angled himself beside me. The six foot bald gentleman had been behind Abby and me when she fainted, selflessly stepping up to lend a hand without being asked.

His partner, a woman in a pencil skirt and a severe bun, cradled Abby’s head and moved her to my shoulder, acting as a human shield for the woman out cold in my arms.

Within mere seconds, security descended on the small cluster of people forming around me, escorting me to a private room for medical emergencies such as these on the far end of baggage claim. Security radioed paramedics and they too fell in step to care for the patient.

The room, no more than a cubical with a cot and a few chairs, served weary travelers in their time of need, but didn’t look like a place to spend any amount of time unless necessary. Mark, one of the paramedics, introduced himself and assured me that ‘this kind of thing happens all the time.’

Fainting may happen all the time in Miami International Airport, but it didn’t happen to my Abby. As far as I knew she’d never passed out before. That did little to calm the roaring of blood in my ears, the pounding worry in my chest, or the overwhelming dread in my gut over what could be happening to my girl.

The seconds flew by and I scarcely took a breath while Mark instructed me to lay Abby on the makeshift bed. She came to and regained consciousness almost as soon as I laid her down. Her blue eyes opened and searched, confusion burned deep as she blinked rapidly.

“Abby, love…” I sat down just beside her as Mark and the other paramedic closed the door, leaving only four of us inside. My girl attempted to sit up but I held her shoulders down. “Baby, you’ve fainted… a bit of a spell…”

“Tom?” her terror and confusion at the past two minutes and where she’d gone clear in her tone. Her hands fussed until I took them in mine.

“I’m here, baby… you’ll be alright. Right here, love,” I cooed softly watching for the color to come back to her cheeks.

Two paramedics with medical bags slung over their shoulders, ready to see the patient, my beautiful ailing girlfriend and administer some first aid. Mark spoke first to the two of us, “My colleague, Sean and I are here to help get you stable. We’d like to give you some oxygen to get your blood pressure back up. Do I have your permission?”

Ready for her consent, Sean poised with the oxygen mask moved in to fit it on Abby as soon as she nodded, her fret filled eyes trained on me. I sat on the edge of her gurney to keep her calm and connected to me.

Mark asked me a series of questions regarding her symptoms, what happened and the events leading up to her fainting to fill in a report. “Her name?”

“Abigail. Abigail Morgan.”

“Your name and relationship to the patient?”

Grasping Abby’s hand, I answered in monotone, “Tom Hiddleston. She’s my girlfriend.” I knew this man was following procedure but it all felt so cold, and I was anxious for them to just tend to her, to move this along, to make her better.

While I answered the first questions, Sean took her blood pressure, checked her pulse and her temperature. After Mark prompted me, I explained where we were coming from and what led Abby to be lying on the gurney with a sheen of sweat on her brow. I also divulged that she was in a car accident two months prior and suffered a head injury, including amnesia, and a broken wrist.

The oxygen mask came off after only ten minutes as Abby’s condition improved in the interim. Her pulse evened out, and she said that she was already feeling better. Even though these were positives, the trained paramedics urged us to visit the emergency room for a further examination with a doctor, typical protocol for fainting victims.

Abby objected, “No, please – I don’t need—“ her grip on my hands became nearly unbearable.

“Abby, we’re going. I’m not playing around with your health,” I contested immediately. I sympathized with her fears, but not to the extent of putting herself in more danger.

“Tom, your interview…”

“Doesn’t matter, baby. You do. I’ll message them and reschedule after you’ve seen a doctor.” I cursed my luck that Luke was on a flight back to London, stuck for another three hours before he landed. I had the contact information for the radio station and would make my apologies personally, since Abby, as Luke’s stand-in, fell ill.

When we agreed to go to the hospital in the ambulance, time moved in fast forward. Seconds. Moments. All torture, Abby’d fallen sick, and I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it, didn’t want to have to. I’d gotten her back on her feet after the accident. How much more would she have to endure for me?

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of the woman I loved hooked up to IV fluids in an ambulance. The worry crippled me from speech, and the terror agonized my mind. I blamed myself for putting her in danger, threatening her health by bringing her on this madly paced tour before she was strong enough to handle it.

The ride to the emergency room, the filling out of forms and the wait for the doctor all flowed by in fuzzy succession. I couldn’t concentrate on any one thing, other than my Abigail and healing her.

* * *

“Abigail, you’re showing signs of anemia. How’s your diet?” the emergency room doctor asked, checking her fluid levels.

Abby looked at the doctor, clearly stumped. Since the start of the tour, our diet had been anything but regular. We’d done better once we hit New York City and the end of the premieres, but still not the three squares a day by any means. Abby’s appetite decreased due to the headaches and the nausea that followed.

“We’ve been traveling pretty extensively and keeping odd hours, so infrequent and unpredictable,” I answered for her.

The doctor smiled warmly while making another adjustment to her fluids and checking the site of the needle prick. “You’re blood pressure is back in normal range since the paramedics took it initially. I’d lke to get a blood test to check for anemia. Is that okay with you, Abigail?”

She nodded mutely, watching his hands release her arm from the blood pressure cuff, the tearing sound of Velcro punctuating the moment.

“Abigail, is there a possibility that you might be pregnant?”

All the air wheezed out of the room like a vortex. I’d never faced a pregnancy scare or otherwise with any girlfriend or lover I’d been with. But when the emergency room doctor in Miami Dade County asked the question, I simply knew the truth. Abby was pregnant.

My mind played over the possibility and in an instant I knew, without a blood test, without Abby’s response. Dr. Sherpada ordered her off of her birth control pills when she took the antibiotics and pain meds for her head and wrist. I forgot to start her back on the pill when she stopped taking the other meds. Her cycle didn’t come that month, and we were so busy with the junket, we didn’t notice.

Automatically, she began, “Noooooo…” She held out the vowel as the possibility sunk in.

All the headaches and the jetlag that never let up on her we attributed to her inexperience with flying and traveling in general. All her symptoms could be blamed on the traveling, but I knew… Abby was pregnant.

Abby and I made a baby together.

Abby carried our baby.

She whispered into the eerily quiet hospital room, “Oh, my God!” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes bright with worry. Abby knew the truth too.

The doctor caught on quickly that the possibility turned from hypothetical to real in an instant. He looked to me, and I gave a curt nod. He took note at once, and said, “Let’s get you that blood test too, shall we?” he retreated leaving Abby and I with our new reality.

I couldn’t say or do anything except hold Abby’s hand, until she let go, and disappeared within herself.

* * *

“Luke, regarding Abigail… there’s been… a development.”  _Knocked up my girlfriend._  “I’m on the first flight back to London. I rescheduled the Miami interviews as phone interviews for next week instead. Would you mind hiring a car for us?” I quickly read off the flight information as I followed behind Abby towards the gate.

Her posture slouched, either from exhaustion or unhappiness, I couldn’t tell for sure. Her feet dragged and shuffled along the linoleum and I only wanted to pick her up and carry her myself, to lighten her load. For the most part, she’d been hiding how uncomfortable the flights made her over the past weeks, with the all the headaches and bouts of nausea, until yesterday when she fainted.

Our last flight of the Avengers junket from Miami to London took off from the blistering, shimmery tarmac in late afternoon. The air felt thicker, weighed down by responsibility and questionable futures, or that could’ve been between Abby and me. I fiddled with the vent overhead, attempting to breathe through this unknown.

Abby sat silently beside me, her eyes trained out the window to the billowy clouds. I couldn’t tell if she was seeing any of it, her thoughts had turned inward since the emergency room doctor dropped the bomb yesterday, anemia with a side of pregnancy. And since then, Abby scarcely made a noise.

That doctor instructed her to take an iron supplement, increase meat into her diet, and drink more fluids. He suggested that I get her home straight away to see her regular doctor for prenatal vitamins, a thorough check up, and proper treatment for her pregnancy.

To see her home, I called the radio stations and scheduled phone interviews in place of my appearing in the studio. It wasn’t ideal with the time difference, but my concern over Abby, her wellbeing and that of our baby took precedence. I rung up Kevin Feige, citing a family emergency, to let him know I’d been unable to complete the last few interviews. He assured me that he understood my need to return to London to tend to my family.

My family.

The thought made my lungs seize. How does one breathe when his girlfriend becomes unexpectedly pregnant?

The quiet strain between Abby and me stretched on for what felt like days, weeks. She avoided any type of intimacy between us, no talking, no touching, no eye contact. She burrowed so far inside herself that I almost felt like I’d left the woman I loved back in New York. The premiere, in her dress, on my arm – that was the last time I’d seen her smile. We’d faced the world, the media, the fans, and my peers together as a couple in love, and now she couldn’t stand to look at me.

Tried as I might, I couldn’t read her mood, her mind, her emotions or her silence. I didn’t know what she was feeling or if she had shut down. Out of my mind with worry and concern for her and for the precious life she carried inside her, I might’ve been able to swim back to England on the sheer volume of stress as my fuel. I couldn’t process my own feelings about the pregnancy, too caught up in Abby’s silence to sort through that.

I cared. Naturally I cared for her and for the life we created together. I’d just earned her back, I’d just earned my place with her. My instinct demanded that I marry this girl, take responsibility for what we’d done, make an honest woman of her and settle down. My head screamed the opposite, to run, run far, run fast and not to look back. And my heart – my heart felt torn between the two extremes. My heart wanted to wrap around her, never to let go.

Instead, I messed with the vent controls until I felt the cool air pool over me, the relief licking my heated skin. Relaxing back into the seat, I exhaled the breath of frustration I’d been gagging on since our meeting with the doctor, the man that changed Abby’s and my life forever. I couldn’t remember his facial features, only how I felt in that room, the vacuum.

The questions swarmed in my head, circling, coiling, rolling, roiling… With every new question I thought of, another three accompanied it, with another two for each of those. Maddening… I needed a run, to put my legs to work, pace out this situation, reason my way through it, clear my head and run. But I was stuck in a tin can for the next nine hours with my pregnant girlfriend ignoring me.

All my turmoil and frustration came out in one even-keeled question, “Abby, do you need a blanket or a pillow?” What an asinine, ridiculous, magnificently stupid thing to ask, but somehow even talking to her (or at her) helped alleviate this void of questions.

She didn’t turn or vocalize anything. Her only reaction to my question, she too relaxed back in her seat to show me her travel blanket clutched in her white-knuckled hands. Her head shook side to side briefly without looking at me, and that was it.

I was still locked out.

The flying didn’t bother her as much as the thoughts in her head. She didn’t cling to me or seek or demand my touch, choosing to will the miles to disappear behind us. London suited Abby best as she wasn’t meant to be a great traveler. She did that for me, sacrificing her comfort for her boyfriend’s loving presence. Overnight, while waiting for our flight home, I’d stuffed her full of fruit juices, water, saltine crackers and a lamb with spinach dinner. She hadn’t been sick yet during this last leg of the journey.

How I loved her, without question, without hesitancy. This emotional isolation tore at my consciousness with every passing hour, minute, moment. Abby’s silence deafened me until I was screaming inside my head for some sign, some indication that she was okay, that she didn’t suffer in the manner I did.

Aeroplanes, however, weren’t an ideal location for a heart-to-heart, clear the air, cathartic discussion that we both needed with this new development in our relationship.

About an hour into the flight, Abby closed her eyes and fell asleep. It was just as well, since we couldn’t talk. I found it comforting that she was resting, instead of wrestling alone with being pregnant.

Ghosting my hand over her hair, I wanted too much to touch her, to have her rely on me again. Twenty-four hours ago, both our lives changed immeasurably and yet I still wanted to be her rock, her support, her beautiful man. I needed to be that, for her.

* * *

Luke had a car waiting to fetch us by the time we’d disembarked and cleared the London border. A suited driver advertising Abby’s surname instead of mine for privacy’s sake stood at the gate waiting for his fare.

I approached him, nodding that we were, indeed, his fare. The gentleman immediately took Abby’s roller bag and mine while I relieved Abby of her carryon. All exchanges were clipped and stiffly formal, while Abby remained tight-lipped. She said nothing and she barely looked at me.

The uncomfortable silence followed us to the car and the drive to Abby’s flat. I didn’t assume she’d come to mine when she hadn’t said anything to me in a day. Maybe she’d want to be home after almost a month abroad and the weeks after the accident when she lived with me.

The driver opened her door for her when we arrived while I gathered her cases. I watched from the sidelines as the older gentleman offered his hand to help ease her from the backseat. She demurely nodded for him as a thank you, instead of voicing it.

I conferred with him, to wait for me as there’d be one more stop. I wanted to get Abby sorted and settled before leaving her alone. My entire being locked up at the thought of leaving her, my head fought against it, and my stomach churned, but she couldn’t look at me and I didn’t want to crowd her.

I put Abby’s cases in her bedroom to be unpacked later. I heard her go into her refrigerator to get a drink before collapsing into her reading chair in the living room by the window. When I came through, I found her in her cocoon of blankets and pillows, staring at the light breeze rustling the leaves on the tree outside.

Reading her mind was impossible, her reasoning always surprised me. And I certainly couldn’t read her emotions without hearing her words and her inflections. She taken away the verbal, so I had so little to go on. We were alone finally, just the two of us and I hoped that she’d clue me in.

But nothing.

Awkwardly, I told her, “Cases are in your room.”

Still nothing.

“Alright, baby, going back to my flat… will you ring me?” I asked in vain, knowing she wouldn’t. She never did. She’d gotten used to the relationship on my terms, when I called, when I craved her.

I leaned over and kissed the top of her head, and still I got nothing, no response other than a faint nod. Her averted eyes almost looked glassy with tears but she blinked and the mist cleared.

I let myself out although my legs protested, the confident stride replaced by staccato steps. I shouldn’t leave her, no matter how much she blocked me out or ignored me. I stood on the sidewalk in front of her flat for a full minute, deciding how to handle silent pregnant Abby.

But I couldn’t crowd her if she was trying to come to terms with this unplanned pregnancy. The ferocious possessive creature in me that loved her growled in frustration, ready to throw myself at her door. But my sensitive rational side needed to give her time, to give her space, allow her determine what and how she felt and what she wanted to do.

My body carried me to the car with every nerve driving me back to Abby. Throwing myself in the backseat, I slammed the door shut behind me, harder than I meant to. I gave the driver some kind of verbal cue to go, though no words came.

The car made it about two minutes away before I regained control of myself. “I’m sorry… I’ve forgotten something. Would you mind turning back please?”

I’d forgotten the love of my life, the woman carrying my child, the needy girl without family. I couldn’t leave her alone. She needed me, whether she knew it or not.

I trampled the door before the car made a complete stop at the curb in front of her flat. The mad push from the car continued through Abby’s front door. I was beyond formalities or politeness, too concerned with the woman who captured my heart.

“Abigail!” I announced into her flat, slamming the door with my foot behind me. In the few minutes since I left her, she’d moved from her cocoon in the living, from her chair, leaving her pillows and blanket behind. “Abigail, sweetheart!” Concern for her, for her continued quiet made me ache, my empathy for her at its highest.

I heard her heave on the other side of the flat, in her bathroom. I followed the sound and found her in a heap on the tiled floor with tears streaming down her face. I dove for her as she retched into the commode once more. Wrapping myself around her, I held the ill woman while she emptied what little she’d eaten on the flight back from America. Her entire body tensed as she strained to release all she had, and I could do little more than be beside her, hold her hair, and try to soothe her with my voice. “I’ve got you, love… I’ve got you.”

Anguished sobs filled the silence between bouts of retching. She seemed to shrink smaller and smaller with every cough. Eventually the episode abated and passed, and she rested, spent in my arms. I held her as her tears faded too, and then she returned to her silence.

Experiencing the results of her accident weeks before in no way prepared me for seeing her this sick. I desperately wanted to heal her, take this sickness away from her. Guilt burned in my stomach for forgetting her birth control.

Abby’s kitchen was still stocked with bottles of water and juices in her cupboards. I quickly went through to fetch both for my girl after dismissing the driver. I dumped my bag in her living room to take care of my suffering girlfriend.

Abby got up briefly to wash out her mouth and clean her face after the nine hour flight with cool water. I made sure that she swallowed some of the juice until I could get her to eat again. When she sat down again, I joined her, to be there for her.

After her silent treatment for the past day, I just wanted to be there for her in whatever she needed. I felt overwhelmed and numbed by the endless stream of questions that clouded my mind. But until Abby felt up to talking, I could be patient. The quiet stretched on between us, paralyzed by the ticking internal clock counting down from nine months.

I felt shell shocked.

I don’t know how long it took, but Abby finally cuddled up to me. She placed her head on my chest and curled her arm around my waist, needing my arms around her. A simple task for her to ask of me, and I followed her need.

“Tom, I’m so sorry… so sorry… I need you. I- can’t do this. It wasn’t meant to be like this.”

I kissed the top of her head and held her together, giving my strength to her, whatever she needed.

“Abby,” I curled myself around her on the cool hard surface of the tiled floor. “My Abby.” I nuzzled against her heated temple and she actually shivered. She’d made herself even sicker with worrying and disappearing within herself. My long legs coiled around her until she was surrounded by me and how much I cared for her.

“We’ll sort it. It wasn’t meant to be this way, but it is and we’ll sort it. I know that you went quiet because you’re scared. But Abby, sweetheart, you’re not alone in this.”

She shivered, her emotions fighting through the bit of calm. “I froze you out, and you left.”

“I didn’t want to, baby. I assumed you wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to leave, and I won’t leave. I need you too.”

“I pushed you away- too far, too long. I didn’t know what to do. What am I going to do?”

Her body was adjusting to the new addition, and she’d been sick a few times since Rome. Abby suffered from the early signs of pregnancy, but I was suffering with her. Hers was justified and real, happening within her body, her mind, her heart. If I could carry that baby for her, I would, to keep her from feeling sick or worried or scared.

“I’m here now, baby. I’m not going anywhere. How are you feeling now?”

“Quesy, but better. And so confused- no, that’s the wrong word. So… conflicted.”

“Please talk to me. We need to talk about this,” I pleaded, my heart raced, my stomach flipped.

“I… don’t know what to say, Tom,” her voice sounded low, timid and small – vulnerable. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Neither one of us prepared for something like this, but it’s ours to deal with now.”

“Tom, I’m pregnant.” The incredulous astonishment was undeniable, but having her say it out loud pulled at my gut. Nothing unpleasant… just- Abby was pregnant, and this strange unworldly sensation filled me. Surreal and wonderful, unexpected and overpowering, monumental and earth-shattering, humbling. Abby carried my child, another life, another human, our baby. The maddening thought - truth – got caught in my brain on an endless cycle.

“Pregnant,” she repeated quietly, to herself, to make it real. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. My head is all a mess, I just don’t know.”

“Tell me, Abigail. Talk to me. I’m here for you. Let me help. Talk it out… say whatever comes to mind. We’ll sort it.” It was an urgent statement to get anything out of her after a day of silence, after the biggest news of our adult life.

She breathed in slowly, letting the oxygen fill her lungs. After a pause, she admitted, “I’m gobsmacked. I just – can’t get my head round it. I don’t know anything about being pregnant, being a mummy. Me?”

I kissed the crown of her head, squeezing her to me. “Any baby would be blessed to have you as their mummy. You have so much love to give… so much, and this baby – the luckiest baby.”

Abby shifted in my arms to look up at me, seeking some kind of refuge or respite from all the questions. “I’m having this baby?”

Ice cold water trickled through my veins and I ceased to breathe. I assumed, because we were in love, that we’d bring this baby into the world together, as a family. Never did it enter my mind that we weren’t going to do this. I couldn’t force her to do this, since it was her body. But how could I let her abort our child, conceived out of the love and passion that Abby and I had for each other?

How could I let her go through with that?

In a split second, my mind knew the answer. Abby’s body, Abby’s choice. She alone would nourish and care for the baby, if she carried it to term, the clusters of cells already wreaking mayhem on her body. If she wanted to end it, I could voice my opinion and objections to stop it, but it was her call.

Carefully, without judgment or motive, I told her, “That’s what we need to sort through, my Abby.”

All at once, her face fell and her tears resumed at the same moment. “Please, Tom… please – I’ve been alone for so long. Don’t make me get—how could I?” The words came out in a jumbled stream, one word tumbling and tripping over the last. Then all sounds were muffled when she buried her face in her hands.

Within seconds, she’d dissolved into tears and I couldn’t calm her. Deep in my arms, she cried and she pained me bit by bit. I hated to see her cry. Shushing and cooing softly against her hair, I tried to calm her. I held her tightly and let her cry it out as she needed after all that quiet. A cathartic release of all the stress, all the fears, all the sickness, all the questions, all her jumbled up confusion. She cried until she had nothing left to cry.

When she finally eased off the hiccoughing and heaving, I assured her, “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Abby. You know that.”

“I want this baby.”

“Then we’ll sort it. That’s my baby too. I don’t want to lose either one of you.”

We sat on the bathroom floor for a long stretch of time, in silence, breathing in and breathing out. Both of us lost in thought and the magnitude of this development in our lives. I knew several things – rather I’d decided several things while contemplating this change.

I couldn’t and wouldn’t lose Abby. My feelings, my consideration and my love for her hadn’t changed. If they had, it was only for the stronger. I would give anything for her.

Having a child with her didn’t scare me. I had my career ahead of me, and I no longer feared a woman or a child getting in the way of my goal. Perhaps both would enhance my life, making it that much sweeter. I’d always wanted to be a father… Sooner rather than later seemed a mere technicality. The end resulted in the same, I’d fulfill a dream I’d had since a hiking holiday with my father around the age of 10. He’d told me about the day that I was born, and I wanted to be able to tell a story like that, one day.

That one day got a hard shove into my immediate future, instead an unknown someday. In eight months’ time, I’d have that story to tell in ten years. The abstract idea of my life became my present.

“Have you considered it before? Having a baby?” I couldn’t say exactly where the questions came from, recognized my voice but couldn’t know why I needed to know.

“You’ve never asked me that before?”

The implication glared before me in its truth. Abby and I never discussed the future or the past. We spoke and lived of the present, and it worked for us. Our hopes and fears worked their presence into our behavior and actions. “I haven’t.”

Tracing circles over the back of her hand with my thumb, I made a decision for our future. “Abigail, I’ve been unfair to you. Our relationship, the very reason we got together, has served us well, but I don’t think it’s enough to sustain us.”

Nervously Abby poked at the bruise at the crook of her arm, the site of her IV fluids. “Tom- I- we’ve- are you breaking up with me?”

I took her hand, preventing her from making the bruise worse and stealing her gaze. “Abby, no, that’s not what I’m getting at.”

“Tom, I’m on a hormone rage right now, and I think my sense of humor is still locked up in my case… I’ve never been a patient one.”

I huffed a humorous noise. “I want to learn about you, Abby. I want to know your thoughts, wishes, dreams, goals. All of it, Abby. I should know all this, I know who you are, but I want to know who you want to be. Where’s you’re going… Everything.”

She studied my face, reading the earnestness in my voice and my eyes. She remained silent, honing in on the emotional reality that I’d conveyed.

“I shouldn’t learn about you through Juliette, about all you lost, all you ran from. You should feel safe with me, to know that I’ll put you back together when you fall apart. Up until the accident, I don’t think I ever gave you the environment to share with me, because I didn’t with you. Our lives are at a crossroads now, and I’d like to ride shotgun with you.”

“I don’t drive,” she whispered shyly. She gave a hesitant smile, the first sign that she was adjusting to all that was going on with us.

I twined my fingers with hers, feeling encouraged that we’d sort this beautifully chaotic mess that we’d made when we weren’t paying attention. “I’ll drive, you navigate,” I peered across the divide between us.

“That’s not a good idea. I barely know the way from my flat to yours, and it’s only one transfer on the tube.”

“That doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together, riding along the same road, in the same car. I’m going to be with you, Abby.”

“Confident sod,” she said flirtatiously, like that first day in the hospital after the accident.

* * *

“Luke’s going to be most unhappy with me,” Abby muttered into her plate.

I finally had her seated at her kitchen table to have some food. It’d been too many hours since she’d eaten anything between the flying and the upset stomach and our delayed heart-to-heart. We had hours of talking and figuring out how we’d adapt as parents, but it cut down the enormity of it by doing small things in the meantime.

“Luke’ll get you the best care while he strings me up from Tower Bridge. If he could sentence me to life in the tower prison, he’d do that too.” My mobile vibrated in my pocket with another incoming message or text, that I could only assume came from the man we were discussing, the only person to know I was back in London. I would have to face the music eventually, but Abby needed my attention more.

She merely picked at the plateful of vegetables and beans I’d ordered as delivered takeaway from a restaurant owner mate of mine that didn’t offer delivered takeaway. After urgent begging without details, Bryan agreed to an exception for me in exchange for VIP movie passes to impress a bird he’d been chatting up, and he brought the food over to Abby’s place himself.

Less than interested in food, Abby scoffed, “Some publicist I turned out to be… knocked up by the talent.” There was more self-deprecating sassy humor than negative snark in her tone. She poked fun at her situation, our situation, rather than putting herself down.

“What about the old adage? ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity…’” I scooted my seat closer to her around the small table, edging her plate closer to her, telling her silently to eat.

Leaning her elbow on the table, she surveyed me with a suspicious look. She accused with a smile, “You made that up.”

I shrugged, “I didn’t, but I’ll proudly take the credit.”

She rolled her eyes at me, knocking me for my confidence and ego, two traits she loved about me and loved taking the mickey for.

I watched her grow inwardly reflective, her gaze growing unfocused, her fingers flicking some of her vegetables around the plate. For a long while, she considered how to tell me what was on her mind.

“Tom, I think I knew. I felt it. I knew something about me was different, I felt it. There was this tingly feeling… a fuzzy warm tingle that pulsed outward. It’s like that ache you feel when you start to get ill. Like… like that, a removed sort of feeling, an abstract or impression. It wasn’t a warning or malevolent, more like company… I suspected that we conceived. An inkling… a very raw idea quickly forgotten, dismissed just as quickly.”

She looked down at her unpronounced belly, her hand passing over where our baby would grow. “The moment I thought ‘maybe it could be’ I wanted it to be true. But the next moment I dismissed it at all. But deep down, I wanted this.”

I lifted her chin with my fingers to get her to look at me. “You want to be pregnant.” The question was implied but not spoken. I needed to get my mind around all of this as much as she did. Vocalizing it helped me get there faster.

“Yes and no. I’m scared and disappointed that I didn’t plan this… but in my heart of hearts, I wanted a family of my own. I’m tired of being alone, Tom. Tired of all my friends having families to visit for holidays and birthdays.”

“You spent Christmas with me and my family this past—“

“I did, yes. I remember,” she said, confirming that her memories returned, even if she didn’t explicitly tell me each one. “But, Tom… the two before that? I was alone, watching Top Gear on telly and having a cuppa. You don’t realize how lonely that can get.”

She let me in. She’d opened the door to her past for me, hinting at some of the hurt and darkness she’d survived. A scratch on the surface, but it was something. We were headed in the right direction along the road of life.

The past hadn’t mattered to us before, but her history and mine influenced both of us and the people we’d become. The past did matter, because it shaped the people we were as a couple in love. Our history was our second skin. Abby helped me with the jealous part of me, and I helped her with her deep-rooted, deep-seated loneliness.

“I never wanted the tears and the fear and the ‘Oh my God, what am I going to do now?’”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Abigail. We’re together, we love each other, and we can support a baby.”

She shook her head. “My dream- I wanted to tell you that we were expecting, when the time came.”

Abby’s ideal hadn’t worked out the way she wanted, and she felt disappointed. I knew I had an opportunity to turn this around, to be the stronger of the two of us. She needed the confidence and the support behind her. Moments passed, as I turned her to me, cupped her face and looked into her unsure eyes.

“Tell me when we have the next one.” A statement of certainty for our future as a couple and that of our unborn child. She could have me willingly without reservation, she could have this baby, a family all her own.

My Abigail smiled brilliantly and said, “Okay.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is entirely dedicated to missviolethunter. She encouraged this part, just because she loves Luke so much. Most of the tweets used are genuine Tom tweets, with some of the dates skewed to serve my purpose (The mother’s day one is an ACTUAL Tom tweet, and is dated correctly). Thank you wherewellshine for helping me put that together. I couldn’t have done it without you. Truly!
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Regarding Abigail**

> **Tom Hiddleston** @twhiddleston – May 4
> 
> _Song of the Day: (is there any other?): “Friday, I’m in Love”, The Cure._
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston** @twhiddleston – May 4
> 
> _To all my friends in the USA, Russia, Canada & Indonesia, Marvel’s The #AVENGERS opens today. #Assemble!_
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl – May 4
> 
> _#TeamHiddleston Your orders. RT To all my friends in the USA, Russia, Canada & Indonesia, Marvel’s The #AVENGERS opens today. #Assemble!_

> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – May 11
> 
> _It’s kind of amazing that my job at the moment is to think about love all the time. Here’s a favourite bit of Andrew Marvell…_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – May 11
> 
> _Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball And tear our pleasures with rough strive Through the iron gates of life_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – May 11
> 
> _Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run. #time_
> 
> **Tom Hiddleston**  @twhiddleston – May 13
> 
> _It’s very confusing because Mother’s Day in UK was two months ago. But Happy Mother’s Day if it’s today where you are. Mothers are amazing._
> 
> **T Hiddy Girl**  @thiddygirl –  _ **May 14 <tentative>**_
> 
> _#TeamHiddleston follow me over to[thiddygirl@tumblr.com](mailto:thiddygirl@tumblr.com) for sparkling new news. A new blog post._

**A MEMOIR OF AMNESIA GIRL**

@thiddygirl checking in with all of you. I hope that you’ve all been enjoying The Avengers wherever you are in the world. Take in multiple viewings, support Loki, be a member of his army, and we hope to be with you all when Thor 2 begins again. We’re going to continue to bring you everything Tom until there’s no more to share (not anytime soon). We’ll keep you up-to-date on all the Avengers interviews and articles as we get them.

You’ve been with us for a good while as we’ve spanned the globe, from Los Angeles to Moscow. We’re finishing up the last of the promotional bits for Tom as Loki before he pops off back to America to start his next project. This is a bit of a departure for him, but he can’t wait to share some details with you when he’s allowed – without the fear of snipers.

I wrestled: LOVE, MUSIC, TEETH and BLOOD out of him, so make of that what you will, and link me to your fanfiction based on those words.

More on that later. I’m posting this to address and acknowledge some of things that surfaced during the junket. There’s been on constant along the tour that keeps coming up, so I thought it might be the right time while we’ve got so many of you. The constant you may ask if you haven’t been living on the twitter or tumblr feeds. Some questions have been asked with the most consistency: Who is T Hiddy Girl? How did she come to work with Luke Windsor and Tom Hiddleston?

I’m T Hiddy Girl, and I’m called Abigail Morgan. Some less reputable sources were successful in uncovering my identity but they don’t know the whole story or why I’m here. I wanted to tell you before you got the wrong idea, or clear up the gross misrepresentations of me.

You might not be swayed from your belief or even care about any of it. All of that’s fine… You’ve been incredibly supportive of Tom and #TeamHiddleston and it’s time to put our faith in you.

My name is Abigail Morgan and I’m from a coastal town in Norfolk called Great Yarmouth. I lost both my parents and the rest of my family. I was eighteen. I moved myself to London to pursue a career in acting. It was scary and so very difficult but it was something I could focus all my energy on after my traumatic past, and the enduring loneliness.

My big break came about a year ago, June 2011. I was cast as Sarah in the Donmar Warehouse production of Splintered, opposite Tom Hiddleston, fresh from filming The Avengers. It was his first time back in a theatre since Ivanov in 2008, and my first West End show after doing regional plays in and around London. We were cast as husband and wife, and those weeks were some of the best of my life.

Tom has this innate ability to make everyone feel comfortable. He’s an excellent listener and brilliant interpreter. He’s loyal, professional and always on. He was a joy to work with, and we all forgot about that Loki guy while he committed to this new role.

We met at the first table read, and he trusted me as a scene partner because he respected the directors and producers to give him a peer. For the first fortnight, I felt completely out of my league and over my head. Tom didn’t let up on me. He believed in me, as did the rest of the cast and crew, and I eventually relaxed into it. For every beat of drama in the text of that play, we as a company found ways to have fun. In a short amount of time, we bonded, and it really felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity. It opened some doors for me as an actress.

This is the information that you probably know already if you’ve read some of the articles about me since the NYC premiere of the Avengers, and you probably could’ve guessed that Tom and I began seeing each other personally then.

Here’s what you don’t know, I was involved in a very serious car accident at the beginning of March of this year. I was in the backseat and a lorry barreled into the side of the car. Mercifully, I don’t remember a lot of that day, but I can tell you that I barely walked away, and not without bumps and bruises. Luckily, the driver of the car was spared too, but he was seriously injured, more than I was.

My left wrist was broken in three places, I had a welt on my head the size of the Tesseract, two black eyes, and other less serious bruises and scrapes along the left side of my body.

The worse part of the ordeal was I lost nearly three years of my life in one night. I won’t bore you with the whys and wherefores or the medical explanations. I lost my memories and it was terrifying. I couldn’t remember anything that happened to me in three years. When I hit my head, my brain reverted back to another point in my life. I have no explanation for why that point became my present. I was afraid of the doctors and the nurses, my friends, Tom and even my own shadow because I didn’t know or recognize any of them. I didn’t recognize myself.

Oh, and I didn’t know where the keys to my flat were.

Over the next two months, I experienced frustration so intense that it brought me to tears and wonderment at the friends I have willing to help me find my life again. I’m very lucky to have people that are willing to pick me up, brush me off and guide me when I can’t do it on my own. If it hadn’t been for these special generous people, I don’t know where I’d be. I would’ve woken up in the A & E alone without someone to show me kindness. It’s humbling to realize how alone you are.

The one person I could rely on the most, my boyfriend Tom. Around his schedule, as he was filming The Hollow Crown for the BBC (more info to come on this at a later date), he helped me relearn my job, my script, reintroduced me to my life. At the doctor’s request and direction, Tom established a daily regime for me, to repair some of the neural…

I won’t bore you all with the mundane aspects of my life and the medical speak and how I failed in playing a 16 card memory game.

Tom was instrumental in my recovery, and I’m grafeful that I had someone in my corner, rooting for me to get better. I’m telling you this because Tom is a good man. I admire him as an actor and as a dearly loved friend. I needed him and he didn’t let me down.

This brings me to the core of this post, how I began working with Luke and hopping on the Avengers junket. Because my wrist needed extra time to heal properly, I wasn’t allowed to step back into my play that I’d been performing prior to the accident, even if I could remember the script (which I couldn’t). That’s when Luke created a position for me to help with promotion and publicity things for Tom during the junket.

And what a journey it’s been! I’ve never been outside England before the Los Angeles premiere. As if California wasn’t far enough, we visited Moscow, Berlin, Rome, New York and Miami. You might’ve seen me with Tom in New York, and that’s probably how news outlets might’ve learned my identity.

I worked very closely with Luke; T Hiddy Girl was his brainstorm to make sure that I was taken care of during my recovery. Without family of my own, I had to rely on the kindness of my friends, Tom and Luke among the closest.

But you know what I’ve discovered while performing this job? I fancy it, and there are truly lovely people out in the world that welcomed me into their break times, commutes, study breaks, slack times, bedtimes, morning breakfasts, down at the pub or during their fifteen hour shift at the mall or between classes. You all spent time with me, and you were there during my most vulnerable, without knowing it.

Somehow, each and every one of you out there made me feel like I wasn’t so alone. You became my company and I looked forward to reading your anecdotes and witty remarks in 140 characters or less when I had the chance. Before I go any further in this post, I want to thank you for being there. You didn’t know, but you were there and that made all the difference.

If anyone is keeping track out there, I regained my memories – and my keys!

I’m calling on you all again now, to choose to be on my side, to be my support system when I need it most.

I’m back home in London now, and I visited my doctor at hospital for my final checkup after the accident. I had my cast off during the tour, but he wanted one final check and follow up on my head. All is well with my head and my wrist, and there’s been a development.

Against all tradition and what most do in my situation, I’m announcing this now because we need all the well wishes and support. Tom and I are expecting a baby together. I’m not at twelve weeks yet, but for me, without my mum and dad behind me, I need you to be my family.

In the past few months, I haven’t had the best of luck with my health, and I’ve been very sick since this all began. Hiddlestoners, #TeamHiddleston, #LokisArmy, I’m relying on you to help us over these next few weeks and months, to cheer us on, Tom and me and our little one. You’ve been out there for Tom all these weeks and continue your incredible, indomitable spirit in your enthusiasm for his portrayal of Loki. We hope that continues over the rest of his career.

Can we count on you?

* * *

“Do you think he read it yet?”

“Wait, you’ll know. He’ll turn another shade of purple,” I whispered, placing my woman as a shield between me and my publicist. My hand splayed over her belly protectively, holding her in my arms, waiting for the wrath of the man seated on my sofa with Abby’s laptop open in front of him.

Abby laced her fingers through mine, anticipating the backlash. She leaned against my chest for support, her morning sickness making her nauseous most of the day. The cycle came in waves, two days of feeling fine, then one day she’d be sick the entire day. Another three days with no symptoms until her body tried rejecting our new addition again. Overall, Abby handled the misery well, and she looked better being back in London, her home. The headaches seemed less debilitating and that improved her appetite.

When Luke adjusted his glasses and shifted in his seat, I knew he’d gotten to the announcement, the heart of Abby’s blog post. Abby knew it too, and suddenly I couldn’t feel my legs.

Luke and I met when I began submitting my CV to Hollywood studios and hired him when Spielberg cast me in War Horse. He managed all the press for War Horse, Midnight in Paris and Thor and we became the best of friends, closer than brothers. We shared the same determination, the same drive to be successful, and he could drink me under the table at the pub. But I had no illusions that he could choose to drop me as a client if he felt he couldn’t represent me well. This pregnancy could jeopardize that professional relationship and by tomorrow I might be shopping for my next publicist.

The man sat, unblinking at the monitor for as long as he could to keep a lid on his temper. The living room stood silent, although I thought I could hear the sun inching across the sky. Finally, he closed the lid on the laptop, hiding Abby’s unpublished blog post and clasped his hands together in his lap.

Abby fidgeted in my arms, anxiously expecting the four horsemen of the apocalypse to come barreling through my foyer. Her concern for me and my career and those of my fans had been the subject of many hours of discussion since we’d learned the news.

Withholding the truth from Luke as long as a fortnight had been something Abby and I had to do for ourselves, to get used to the fact that she was pregnant. It hadn’t been easy to keep the truth from him since he called and questioned the reason for the early flight back from Miami. The magnitude of the change in Abby’s and my lives seemed all the more frightening the more people we told.

My immediate family – they weren’t altogether pleased with me but doted on shy, embarrassed Abby. Even my mother came around and changed her opinion of Abby when we told her. Mum fancied the idea of having a grandchild in England, one she could see every day if the mood struck her. My sister Sarah and her children lived in India with Sarah’s husband, and mum only saw those grandchildren twice a year.

The assumption of the gold-digging actress sleeping with every man who crossed Abby’s path disappeared the moment mum learned that a Hiddleston baby would be in her arms in less than nine months. I received a half hour talking to for making Abby walk from the car to the house without my arm around her waist to prevent her from tripping, falling and hurting herself and the baby, when it’d been Abby’s decision to hold my hand. My family absorbed the news better than Luke seemed to.

“Doll, come here please,” his voice gave little away in its monotone low baritone. He didn’t look away from the closed computer, but wanted Abby by him.

My girlfriend looked at me over her shoulder confused by the response, asking silently what she should do.

Nodding, I released her to cross the room and sit beside Luke. When she sat, Luke calmly examined her with a careful eye. “How’re you, doll? How’re you feeling?” The rush of words slurred together, betraying his calm, cool demeanor. His hand squeezed hers and big brother made an appearance to protect her from the evil lord of the manor. He wouldn’t spare me a glance yet.

“I’m a little nauseous today, but I’m fine. Tom’s taking care of me.”

If I didn’t know better I could’ve sworn I’d heard Luke snarl at my name and a vein pop at his temple.

“Luke, I’m sorry,” she turned a bit towards him so their knees touched. “We didn’t know how to tell you, but… it seems so informal now… and I’m sorry. This was completely unexpected and I’m sorry.” Her babbling came to an end when he patted her hands affectionately.

The air in the room shifted as he finally turned to me. He rose to his feet and a few decibels shy of bellowing, inquired, “Hiddleston, have you lost your mind?”

And the vein in the middle of his forehead made an appearance. He looked redder than I’d ever seen before or that his profile gave away.

My hands shot up in a defensive gesture, warding off the lecture that was sure to follow. “Unexpected. Unplanned – for both of us,” my eyebrows shot up pleadingly.

Abby stood up to come to my rescue. Holding tight to Luke’s arm, she lowered his temper, but only a notch. “This happens a lot, Luke… the doctor said—“

“How many more has he gotten pregnant?!”

It wasn’t funny, but it was. Luke looked as though he’d blown a gaskit and Abby did her best to try to repair the damage. I stood across the room with the coffee table between me and my murderous looking publicist as my only defense if he actually exploded and I felt the explosion.

“This shouldn’t happen!” he screamed at me.

“I know—“

Abby countered, “It was because of the accident, Luke.” She tried to take back some of Luke’s fury over this.

“Did he accidentally fall into you?!”

“Luke,” she quieted. “We couldn’t know.”

“The Avengers made you—“ Luke began at me, but Abby tugged hard on his sleeve and then dropped suddenly onto the couch. In two steps, I knelt beside her to check that she was alright. In the blink of an eye, Luke went from spouting steam out of his ears to attentive guardian, ready to do her bidding.

Abby held her head between her hands, her elbows on her knees. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the room, locking both Luke and me out.

Before Luke or I could ask after her, she begged, “Please no yelling. My head…”

Stroking her back, I promised, “We won’t, Abby. It’s just a bit of a shock for Luke.” I met his eyes over hunched Abby and with a blink, he conceded for her sake. “Do you need paracetamol? Juice?”

Since becoming pregnant, Abby craved Oasis Mango Medley juice almost as much as she’d craved her Starbucks. The sugar and the cold shaved down the edges of her headaches, but the flavor wasn’t too harsh for her. It wasn’t the healthiest choice for her, but it helped alleviate her symptoms.

Luke offered to fetch her a glass to nurse her bad head while I caressed her hair. As an aside while Luke was gone, she ordered, “No arguing. No drama. No more tears. I don’t want to remember that our baby brought on so much…” Lost for words, she trailed off. She’d been doing her best to turn her initial shock and tears around, to show her enthusiasm and excitement for the baby. This was her dream, her wish, and she didn’t want it surrounded by negativity.

Luke returned with a full glass of juice to a grateful and thirsty Abby. He watched her drink down some of the liquid, his brain working out the new information.

“I’m sorry we told you this way,” she said putting her glass down on the coffee table. Luke and I both went for a coaster at the same time, but I got there first to rescue the table from the sweating glass. Abby was a great many things, but mindful of little things like that escaped her. “Maybe a speech or an explanation would’ve been better – or a phone call- I don’t… We didn’t plan this, Luke.”

The man didn’t answer straight away. He rubbed at his forehead, coming to terms with the news and how to handle it.

“We can blame the pain meds and the antibiotics for messing with my birth control pills. The doctor said that it happens a lot. Tom and I didn’t plan for this, but now that it’s happened, we’re getting excited. Please don’t be angry with us. We’re making the best of it that we can.”

“Abigail, doll, what will you do?” It would take time for the news to sink in for Luke, and he looked as shell-shocked as we had. Of course he’d be invested in the sensationalist aspect of it and the impact on my career, but he cared so deeply for Abby and he had personal vested interest in her choices.

“I’m not entirely sure yet. Tom and I have talked a lot and he’s asked me to move in.”

I curled my fingers through hers. In the fortnight since we’d learned of her pregnancy, Abby and I talked about nearly everything, past boyfriends, girlfriends, medical histories, school studies, past jobs, through tears and laughs and quiet reflections. We weren’t just sorting out our future, but our entire relationship and figuring how to move forward. She hid our phones and all other electronic devices under the bed in the guest room until we’d made some of the more difficult decisions. We were closer to finding a private clinic to hire to have the baby, but we were still figuring out us and what all of it meant for us.

Abby would retain her flat as a worst case scenario, if we didn’t work out, and her rent would become part of the monthly bills that we split together. She would call to suspend her phone and internet, and get Hughes to pick up all her electronics that she hired for her flat. We planned the guest room in my flat as the nursery for our baby.

“That’s about all I know… oh, and I’m going to be a mummy.”

Luke put aside his concern and his shock (maybe his anger for me too) to comfort and share in the joy that Abby felt. His arm circled her shoulders and he kissed her hair. “Baby doll,” he hummed. “You’ll be an amazing mum. If you need anything, anything at all…” He shot me a look to kill, “ask him.”

Clearly the anger hadn’t been put aside yet.

Abby giggled, “Don’t be cross with Tom. He couldn’t have known, and he takes good care of me… and the little one.”

Luke fussed over her, checking that she regained her color, that she didn’t feel faint or ill or tired and if she needed anything. “Doll, if you need anything… no joking this time, if you need anything, you’ll come to me.”

“And if I brought you to me?” she asked cheekily.

The turn of phrase surprised and sobered him, ready for his call of duty. He steeled himself to spring into action at whatever request she had. “Consider it done, doll.”

“It’s still very early, but we’d like very much – Tom and I – if you would be godfather to this little one?”

Luke sat back along the sofa cushions, like he’d been struck deciding how to retaliate.

“Luke, you’ve taken me under your wing, twice, and nobody asked you to. You’ve been like a brother to me whether I was aware or not. You want what’s best for me, even when I don’t appreciate it. You love Tom and there is no one else in the world that I would ask.”

The man looked to me then back to Abby. Carefully he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. As straightforward and organized as Luke was, he had a heart. I couldn’t say what he saw when he first investigated Abby on my behalf all those months ago or what he connected to. But from the start, he loved her, and her extending her trust to him, in this manner, touched him.

Reaching for his knee, Abby misread his reaction, “It’s a big responsibility… if you need time or if you don’t think you want to…” Her speech trailed off when he showed the sentimental tears shimmering in his eyes.

“Abby, it would be an honor.” He meant it, we could both see it.

“Right,” I said sarcastically, throwing Luke a man card to pull himself together before he shed those tears. “Babysitter sorted.”

Abby felt his commitment to the responsibility she’d trusted him with and hugged him for it while ribbing me with her elbow. When they pulled out of their embrace, my girlfriend slyly asked, “May I keep my job as thiddygirl, by the way?”

This had come up in the days that Abby and I spent sorting through our life. She’d relearned her script for the play she’d been performing before the accident happened, but this pregnancy put a wrench in her taking the role back. The closing date had been posted during the junket for the end of August.

Abby reasoned that even if she felt up to going back as she had the right to do since the producers held her job for her, it wouldn’t be for very long. Her morning sickness came and went with no pattern and she didn’t want to be caught up auditioning for something new or performing this show while she was sick. She would have to disclose her condition to prospective employers, and in show business, there were very few roles for pregnant women, or producers willing to hire an actress only to find another in a few months’ time for maternity leave.

Overall, Abby didn’t mind taking some time away from being an actress, but she didn’t want to be a leach on me. No matter how much assurance I gave her that I could afford to carry us both, and I wanted to do it, she wouldn’t have it. She wanted something to do, something to earn, some money of her own, to be gainfully employed.

Luke intuitively took in all the avenues that Abby and I had traveled in coming up with a solution. He realized her dilemma in finding new work while she was in a family way, but he was also aware of her head trauma. Memorizing didn’t come as easy for her as it did before the accident. “We’ll talk about it, doll. If I keep you on, I may need to give you some other tasks. But I need you to rest while you’re sick… and listen to me.” He said with a laugh when Abby rolled her eyes.

“I’m pregnant, not a student in school needing a note of clearance from her doctor to participate in physical activities.”

“No more physical activities for you, doll,” Luke answered with a grin.

Abby blushed scarlet and pressed her cheek into my shoulder to hide her face from teasing Luke.

I objected, “She can’t get more pregnant. I don’t see the harm for her to do things as she normally does.” My voice dripped with innuendo, and all I could hear were Abby’s muffled giggles in my shirt.

After Abby reemerged and we all calmed from laughing, Luke asked, “Tom, may I speak with you privately please?”

Abby put a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not mad… not a lot.”

“Okay. Then don’t hurt him too much. I need him, for midnight excursions for biscuits and ice cream.”

I leaned into her profile and kissed her cheek lovingly. Impressed with how quickly she’d settled into this new change, I told her, “I love you.”

Her hand moved up to my cheek as she turned to look at me. “My beautiful man.”

* * *

Luke hustled me into the office and shut the door. “Have you told her everything?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Small favors,” he murmured to himself, loud enough for me to hear it.

“She got two big doses of my jealousy during this—“ Courtship? Ordeal? Episode? I couldn’t think of a proper word to describe this second chance I’d been given with Abby. “We fell in love again, Luke. I didn’t use her this time. I earned her trust without relying on her crush on me. And that baby is a true result of our love for one another. She knew about everything before we got together this time. I love her more than I ever have before and I love that baby she carries.”

Making a placating gesture with his hands, Luke yielded to my spirited certainty, “Alright. I’m with you on all that. But this blog post - is this how you want to handle this news going public?”

“It’s not conventional, I’ll grant you that, but Abby’s spirit is in there, in that post. Her personality may win over the public, with any luck.”

Luke patted his chest over his heart in a thinking gesture, almost enough to make me hear the gears of his mind shift and turn in the quiet of the room. “I like that she called on people’s good natured side. The fans may take some ownership in that, to be decent. There will most likely be a fair amount of judgment, even with this call for mercy.”

“Overall, it’s your call, Luke. If you don’t think that this is the way to go, we’ll do it a different way. I didn’t want her to play the sympathy card, but Abby spun it as more optimistic. She didn’t concentrate on that’s gone wrong, she wanted this to be about moving forward with me at the forefront. The unity of the fans… it might work.”

 

 


End file.
